Phantom
by lrritablevowel
Summary: Mamoru returns to Tokyo as a new enemy appears for the first time in nearly a decade. Will the senshi be able to handle this new threat without the help of Sailor Moon, who retired under mysterious circumstances?
1. Prologue

"SAILOR MOON RETIRES"

Mamoru stared at the computer screen, the coffee cup partially raised to his lips frozen midair, as he tried to process what he was seeing. Sailor Moon's smiling face was splashed across the homepage of the _Tokyo Daily News_ below a massive headline announcing her retirement. Overcoming his momentary shock, Mamoru clicked the article, quickly finding a video of the surprise press conference held earlier that day.

There was Sailor Moon, looking impossibly small and overwhelmed as she approached a podium overflowing with microphones. Behind her were her four senshi: Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, and Venus. Camera flashes frantically lit her pale face as she began to speak, reading from a slip of lined pink paper clutched tightly in her gloved hands.

"It's with a heavy heart that I've called you here today to announce my retirement, effective immediately." She cleared her throat nervously as the room filled with upset muttering, waiting for the commotion to die down a bit before continuing. "This is not a decision I make lightly. Unfortunately, circumstances have made it impossible for me to continue my duties. I'm leaving Tokyo in the capable hands of Sailor Mercury, Sailor Mars, Sailor Jupiter, and Sailor Venus. They will continue to protect and serve in my stead. Thank you."

Sailor Moon stepped back from the podium as reporters shouted out questions, looking slightly nauseated as she retreated to the comfort of her fellow senshi. Sailor Jupiter wrapped an arm around the shorter woman's shoulders as Sailor Venus stepped forward, taking Sailor Moon's place at the podium, her normally mischievous face serious and determined.

"Thank you, Sailor Moon," she began, turning to give her leader a reassuring smile. "On behalf of the Sailor Senshi, I would like to begin by acknowledging Sailor Moon's outstanding courage and selfless bravery over the past 4 and a half years. Together, we have fought many battles to keep this world safe. We will truly miss having her by our sides.

"However, we would like to reassure everyone that it will be business as usual for the rest of the Sailor Senshi. We will continue to fight to protect all of you, and I will personally be working with police to find ways to better serve the Tokyo community and all of Japan." Sailor Venus paused, smiling at the reassuringly before continuing.

"I will now take questions."

Immediately barraged by the reporters, she pointed to one at random in the crowd. "Yes, you there in the glasses."

"Will you be finding a replacement for Sailor Moon?"

"No. Our powers are not transferable." She looked around as more questions hurtled her way. "Next," she said, pointing to a woman in a red scarf.

"What if another serious threat appears?"

"It has been well over two years since there has been a serious threat to the planet. We are hopeful that this peace will continue. However, if another threat appears, Sailor Mars, Sailor Mercury, Sailor Jupiter, and I feel confident that we can handle it. Next question."

"Is Sailor Moon retiring due to illness?"

"Sailor Moon is perfectly healthy. Next." She pointed to a reporter in the front row.

"Is Sailor Moon being forced out?"

"Absolutely not," Venus replied indignantly. "We are heartbroken that she's retiring, but we understand and respect her decision. Next question."

"Will Sailor Moon be leaving the area?"

"Sailor Moon has no immediate plans to leave Tokyo. Next."

"Is Sailor Moon's retirement linked to Tuxedo Mask's disappearance?"

"No. Next."

Mamoru didn't bother waiting for the next question before closing the browser. He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to settle his thoughts, but it didn't help much.

Hoping that a run would help him work through the news, he changed into a set of workout clothes and ventured out into the snowy streets of Cambridge. Squinting into the early morning dawn, he began to jog and contemplate the news.

Sailor Moon was retiring, and despite Venus's reassurances at the press conference, he was worried. She had clearly been nervous and upset, and looked unwell, though that could have been from the nerves.

What could have happened? A few possibilities floated across his mind. Was it school? Her family? Was her identity compromised? Was it something else entirely?

He thought back to their last few days together. It had been three months since the last time he had seen Sailor Moon. A few days before that, he had broken the news that he was leaving, possibly forever. She was upset, of course, but seemed strong and determined to continue on with her duties without him—duties that were a far cry from the terrifying battles they faced when they first discovered their superhero personas.

The battle against Queen Metalia and her minions had taken the better part of two years, and had nearly cost them their lives on several occasions. After her defeat, they continued their frustrating search for the elusive Moon Princess and the Silver Crystal, but neither ever surfaced.

In order to feel useful, Mamoru began patrolling the city at night, both on the lookout for crime and for signs of his princess. Though there was never a single hint of the princess, there was plenty of crime to be found, and Sailor Moon soon joined patrols, fighting by his side as they protected their city together. They bonded over their new, shared mission, growing closer than ever before.

Occasionally, one or two of the other senshi would join them on their patrols, but none of them ever truly trusted him, knowing that his true mission was finding their princess and her crystal. They wrote him off, never truly understanding the depth of his devotion to her.

Only Sailor Moon ever risked getting close. . . .

He watched over the years as Sailor Moon matured from an awkward, clumsy girl into a mature, confident woman. A woman so sure of herself, so strong, so awe-inspiring to be near, that he couldn't help but develop feelings for her. They shared a few innocent kisses here and there, but they always stopped themselves before things went too far. He always wound up feeling guilty for betraying his princess and she was reluctant to alienate her senshi, who disapproved of him.

Then one day, after a terrifying encounter with a yakuza boss who nearly managed to blow Tuxedo Mask's head off, something shifted. The near-death experience had truly shaken them, and, in the aftermath, their emotions got the better of them. He wasn't sure who kissed who first, but this time they couldn't— _wouldn't_ —stop. Before they knew it, they were on a rooftop, frantically making love under the open night sky.

They both agreed it had been a stupid mistake . . . but after the next close call, it happened all over again. Soon they were making love after their patrols all over Tokyo—in rooftop gardens, in secluded parks, on top of Tokyo Tower—but she swore him to secrecy, and he complied. They both knew her fellow senshi would do all they could to separate them, and neither of them wanted that to happen.

He suspected Sailor Moon's feelings for him were stronger than she let on, and he would be lying if he said he didn't love her, too, but he was grateful that she never forced him to choose between the crime-fighting partner he adored and the woman who was his earliest memory—the princess who haunted his dreams every night, pleading for his help.

Saying goodbye had not been easy. The night before he left, they raced through the city, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, enjoying the thrill of their power, before making love one last time.

And now, she was retiring.

Mamoru sighed, releasing a plume of fog into the chilly morning air.

He felt like an asshole. He missed her . . . a lot. He wanted to check up on her, make sure she was really OK, but he was halfway around the world attending medical school with no plans of returning to Japan anytime soon—if at all. He had to let it go and trust that the other senshi were watching over her.

What else could he possibly do? He wished he could just pick up the phone and talk to her.

If only he knew who she was . . .

* * *

10/30/16

I was originally going to wait until this story was complete before posting it but as it turns out, I need you guys to keep me motivated to write! ^^; I have most of the story all mapped out and am really excited about where it's going. I hope you all enjoy the ride!

As usual, a million thanks to my bae-ta, Antigone2. Thanks for all of the feedback an inspiration!


	2. Chapter 1

Mamoru was dealing with a bit of reverse culture shock, and it wasn't just because he kept walking on the wrong side of the sidewalk, nearly running into countless harried commuters, disaffected urbanites, and confused tourists. He was back in Tokyo, and the once-familiar sights of his neighborhood now felt like a strange dreamland filled with fragments of his past.

It was inevitable, he knew. Tokyo changes in the blink of an eye, and he had been gone for eight years. While much was the same, just enough had changed to make him doubt himself. Many of the buildings he used to use as landmarks were gone, and some of the ones he did recognized looked . . . different somehow.

As he walked the half-remembered streets, he couldn't help but think of Sailor Moon and the countless hours they had spent exploring and defending the city together. To Mamoru, she was yet another essential part of Tokyo that was now missing. The times he spent with Sailor Moon had been some of the happiest in his life, and he often thought of her over the years, wondering what had become of her. Not a single sighting of her had been reported since she had retired, and he fervently hoped that wherever she was, she was happy and safe.

Coming to a crosswalk, Mamoru flexed his hand as he momentarily waited for the light to change, imagining the feel of a razor-sharp rose materializing in his fingers. When once it had been nearly effortless to concentrate his power, willing the flower to life, it was now merely a frustrating reminder of what he'd lost when he left Japan—when he left her behind. After Sailor Moon's retirement, he could feel his power slowly seep out of him, draining until just a glimmer was left behind, burning faintly deep within him. He had long ago accepted that his powers were probably never returning, and that the civilian identity of Tuxedo Mask—known only to him—would likely be a secret he took to his grave.

He had continued his search for the Moon Princess in the US, but she remained stubbornly out of reach. And as the years passed, the dreams that had plagued him so desperately faded, until the urgent yearning he felt for her dwindled to a sort of nostalgic curiosity. While there was a part of him that would probably always want to find her, the driving need was no longer there.

A sigh of relief crossed his lips when he saw that his destination looked exactly how he left it. Crown Game Center stood like a bright beacon, reassuring Mamoru that he really was home.

He smiled as he approached, watching as a few kids in school uniforms entered its welcoming embrace. Beside the front doors stood a life-sized cutout of Sailor Venus in all her glory, holding a sign with instructions for contacting the 24-hour Senshi Hotline. Mamoru smiled at the sight, glad that she, at least, was still out there protecting Tokyo.

Stepping through the doors, he scanned the arcade for Motoki. Mamoru hadn't told his old friend that he was returning and was looking forward to surprising him. He spied the back of a blonde head behind the bar, but quickly realized it belonged to a woman, her blonde hair piled high atop her head in an enormous bun. He approached the bar just as she finished making a milkshake, placing it on a tray filled with plates of food.

"Excuse me," he said, noticing her shoulders tense at his voice. She slowly turned, the look of shock on her face quickly turning to confusion.

"Baka?"

Mamoru raised his eyebrows as he recognized the woman before him.

"Odango?"

She was older, certainly—her face more mature and her body softer—but it suited her; she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

Usagi and Mamoru stared at each other in silence, both attempting to process the faces they hadn't seen and nicknames they hadn't heard in nearly a decade.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked at the same time, before bursting into laughter.

"Sorry if I scared you just now," Mamoru said, leaning against the bar.

"No, no, it's fine. You just . . . sounded a lot like someone I used to know," she replied with a slight frown, picking up a can of whipped cream and shaking it. "Anyway, to answer your question, _I_ work here, obviously," she said, gesturing toward her apron. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm back in town and thought I'd pop in to surprise Motoki. Guess I was in for the surprise instead," he smirked. "I definitely didn't recognize you at first without your odangos," he added, a hand miming the shape of two buns on his head.

Usagi raised an eyebrow at his impression of her infamous hairstyle, but she knew there was no malice behind his actions. They had both grown up, and the years spent apart gave them enough perspective to remember their mutual teasing with a smile instead of a scowl.

"Yeah, well, customers generally don't like finding 2-meter strands of blonde hair in their food, so I keep it up."

"That . . . makes sense," he said, his face scrunching up at the thought of finding a hair taller than Usagi in his food.

She giggled at his reaction, adding a dollop of whipped cream to the top of the milkshake.

"Why don't you take a seat?" she suggested, picking up the tray of food. "I'll be right back after I drop off this order."

He sat on his favorite stool and watched as she delivered the order and chatted happily with the table of teens. It felt like no time at all had passed and he was still in undergrad, sneaking glances at her as she unwound with her friends after school. Though their relationship had started on the wrong foot, their bickering eventually gave way to good-natured teasing. Mamoru even developed the beginning of a crush on the bubbly teen, but with his heart already torn between the princess and Sailor Moon, he never acted on it.

"Can I get you something?" she asked as she returned to the bar with an empty try and smoothed a few flyaway hairs from her face. "Coffee?"

"That would be great, thanks," he said, leaning an elbow on the counter.

"So," she began, grabbing a mug and filling it, "you back for good or just visiting?"

He took the cup from her, grateful to have a little help with his jetlag.

"Back for good," he said, taking a sip. It was just as perfectly awful as he remembered. "I got an associate professorship at Waseda."

"Wow, fancy!" Usagi crossed her arms, putting them on the bar between them as she leaned forward. "You all done with medical school, then?"

"Yep, just finished up a few months ago."

"Does that mean I have to call you Dr. Baka now?"

"Obviously," he teased. "What do you think I went to medical school for?"

She stuck out her tongue as he smirked into his coffee.

"Usagi-onee-san!"

Usagi looked over at a table of middle school students waving at her.

"Sorry," she told Mamoru apologetically. "I'll be right back."

She hurried to the table demanding her attention, quickly taking their order and checking on the other customers in the arcade before returning. After plugging their order into the arcade's computer system for the cook in the back, she began prepping their order.

"How long have you been working here?" he asked as she scooped ice cream into a metal malt cup.

"A couple years now. It's been pretty great, actually," she explained over the noise of the drink mixer. "Motoki lets me have a pretty flexible schedule and he lets me eat for free!" She finished up the milkshake and poured a few sodas, placing them on a tray.

"So that doubles your pay, basically."

"Pretty much," she replied with a grin. "That's his problem, though, not mine."

Usagi peered over Mamoru's shoulder as the front doors chimed, her face breaking into a radiant smile.

"Mama!"

Mamoru turned to see a young girl with strawberry-blonde hair rush behind the bar and give Usagi a hug. He blinked rapidly, trying to process the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Hey sweetie!" Usagi said, kneeling down and kissing her cheek. "Did you have a good day in school?"

"Yeah!" the young girl replied, taking off her backpack and digging through it. "Guess what, guess what!"

"What?" Usagi replied with a grin.

"I got 100 on my math test!" she said, bouncing with excitement as she extracted a crumpled paper from her backpack and proudly presented it to Usagi, who beamed as she took the paper from the girl's hands.

"Good job, baby!" Usagi said, hugging the girl. "This is definitely going on the fridge when we get home," she said as she handed the test back to the girl, who stuffed it back into her backpack. "Why don't you sit down and I'll get you a snack after I take these drinks out?" Usagi suggested as she picked up the backpack and set it behind the counter.

"Okay!" the girl said, scampering onto the stool beside Mamoru.

"Chibi-Usa," Usagi said, placing a small cup of milk in front of her, "this is an old friend of mine, Dr. Chiba." The small girl looked at Mamoru, giving him a bright-eyed smile. "Mamoru," Usagi continued, turning to him, "this is my daughter, Chibi-Usa."

Mamoru schooled his features, trying to conceal his shock. Usagi, his clumsy, endearing Odango Atama . . . a mother? He couldn't help feeling that while he had been in endless classes, spinning his wheels in academia, she had lived a whole life already. He might have a fancy degree, but she had raised a _child._

He watched Usagi as she looked at her daughter, her face full of warmth and love. Mamoru's mask melted, softening into a true smile.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Usagi told Chibi-Usa, who nodded at her mother. Mamoru turned to Chibi-Usa as Usagi picked up her tray and left them alone.

"It's very nice to meet you, Chibi-Usa," he told her.

"Nice to meet you, too," she replied, bobbing her head toward him.

Mamoru took a moment to study the little girl as she began drinking her milk. She looked a lot like he imagined Usagi looked at her age, but with a few differences: the hair color, for one; and her eyes, which, besides being more almond-shaped than Usagi's, were the most peculiar shade of brown-red. Combined with her pointy rabbit-ear buns, she really did look like an adorable little bunny. He couldn't help but smile at how cute she was.

"I like your hair," he told her. "Your mother used to wear hers like that, too."

"I know," she said matter-of-factly, setting down her glass; it was obviously something that came up a lot. "She still does sometimes."

"So . . ." he began, swirling the coffee in his cup as he tried to figure out how to continue the conversation, "what grade are you in?"

"First," she replied as Usagi returned, her tray now empty.

"She's class president," Usagi said proudly as she set down the tray.

"Really?" Mamoru said, raising his eyebrows as Chibi-Usa happily nodded. "That's great. That means you're a leader."

"It's fun," she said, wiggling happily in her seat. "I get to represent my class and vote on stuff. Plus Mama always brings treats when we meet."

Mamoru raised his eyebrows and looked up at Usagi, who mouthed, "Makoto." He smiled, remembering the tall girl who loved to bake.

"So what are your favorite subjects?" he asked as Usagi refreshed his coffee.

"I like math the best . . ." she began, scrunching her face in thought, "and science. And art, too."

He smiled at her response, reminded of himself at her age. "Math was my favorite subject as a kid, too."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes wide.

He nodded, grinning at the girl's growing smile.

"Mama hates math," she explained, leaning toward Mamoru.

"Oh really . . ." he said, hiding his smirk by taking a sip of coffee.

"Chibi-Usa's a much better student than I ever was," Usagi explained, placing a small piece of cake and a fork in front of the little girl.

"Mama also hates English, science, kanji—"

"Why don't you eat your cake, Chibi-Usa?" Usagi said, cutting off Chibi-Usa as Mamoru tried not to laugh.

"Thank you!" Chibi-Usa said before digging in. It didn't take long before the plate was totally clean, reminiscent of another odangoed girl Mamoru knew.

"Can I go play Magic Girl Space Blasters now?" Chibi-Usa asked as Usagi topped off Mamoru's coffee.

"Do you have any homework?"

"No," she replied with the biggest eyes she could muster.

"Alright," Usagi said, pulling a coin purse from behind the counter and handing it to Chibi-Usa. Mamoru smirked as Chibi-Usa happily scrambled off of the stool.

"Thanks, Mama!" Chibi-Usa said, rushing to give her mother a hug. "Nice meeting you, Dr. Chiba!" she called out as she ran over to her favorite game.

Usagi sighed and shook her head, then began to clear Chibi-Usa's spot. Usagi could feel Mamoru's eyes on her as she wiped the counter, trapping cake crumbs in her rag.

"What?" she asked, confronting the confusingly tender look on his face.

"I didn't know you had a child," he said, his voice soft.

"Jeez," she said, rolling her eyes, "did you talk to Motoki at all while you were gone? That man is like gossip central. When he and Minako get together . . ." She shuddered a little, shaking out the rag in the sink.

"I haven't kept in touch with him as much as I should have," he admitted as he looked into his coffee cup. "I'm pretty bad at keeping in touch with people, to be honest."

"He was pretty bummed that you couldn't come to his wedding," she said, wiping her damp hands on her apron.

"So was I," he replied. Though the wedding had been years ago, he still felt guilty that he couldn't be there for Motoki and Reika's big day. "I really wish I could have made it, but finals were that week. There was just no way I could have made it work."

"That's too bad," she commiserated. "It was such a beautiful wedding. And the banquet . . ." Usagi smiled and closed her eyes, clearly recalling a scrumptious feast.

"How about you?" he asked, picking up his coffee cup.

"How about me what?" she responded, her eyes popping open.

"Are you married?"

"Me?" she asked, incredulous. "Do you see a ring on this finger?" She held up her left hand, showing off her lack of jewelry.

"Oh, sorry, I mean, not everyone wears a ring so I just thought maybe . . ."

She raised an eyebrow, her look suspicious. "You just thought maybe . . . ?"

Mamoru suddenly felt awkward, suspecting that he had brought up a touchy subject.

". . . you and Chibi-Usa's father," he began, "y'know . . ." He didn't bother finishing his statement. The serious look on her face told him all he needed to know.

"Her father is not in our lives," she said, turning away from him.

"I see," he said with growing embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. That was rude."

"Yes, it was," she stiffly replied, gathering full plates of food from the kitchen window and placing them on trays. "Listen, Mamoru," she said, keeping her back to him, "it's going to get really busy in here soon so I'm not going to have time to chat. If you want Motoki, he'll be in tomorrow morning."

"Alright . . ." It was clear he was being dismissed, and he was unwilling to upset her further by lingering. He got up and left some money on the counter as she busied herself with work behind the bar.

"Hey, Usagi," he said, reaching over to touch her arm. She turned to look at him, her eyes sad. "I'm sorry, really."

"It's just a sore spot for me," she explained in a low voice.

"Got it," he said stepping back, awkwardly placing his hands in his pockets. "Anyway, it was nice catching up, and it was great to meet Chibi-Usa. She's . . . she's really wonderful, Usagi. You did a great job raising her."

Mamoru was relieved when Usagi's expression softened.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, turning to watch her daughter enthusiastically battling the monsters safely trapped in an arcade game. "I really lucked out."

"Well, guess I'll see you around," Mamoru said after a moment's silence.

"Sure." Usagi watched as he started to leave, then noticed the money he left on the counter. "Hey, Mamoru!"

He turned to look at her.

"You left too much money!" she said, pointing at the counter. "There's no tipping in Japan, Baka!"

Mamoru smiled at the return of his nickname. He hoped it meant she forgave him for his gaffe.

"Give the change to Chibi-Usa. I'm sure she'll find a use for it."

She smiled, curling her hand around the coins. They still felt warm.

"Hey, Baka!"

He turned to look at her from the doorway.

"Welcome home."

Mamoru grinned, then turned, waving a hand above his head as he walked out of the arcade and back into his new old life.

* * *

He was in a plaza of some kind, that much he knew. Grecian columns lined the perimeter and a large, ancient-looking building loomed ahead—a palace, or a temple, perhaps.

People mulled around him as he approached the building, oblivious to his presence. It was then that he noticed the small storefront to the side, and soon Crown Game Center's familiar façade and marquee were clear. He stepped forward, activating its automatic doors. They chimed and opened to admit him. Mist swirled out, enveloping him.

"Find the Silver Crystal," a woman's voice called from within.

He ran forward, frantically searching for someone, feeling the echo of a memory deep within his soul.

An arcade game glowed in the swirling mist; a young woman in a long white dress was seated before it, her long, strawberry-blonde hair flowing from twin buns onto the floor in ringlets. She turned her eyes to him—strange, brown-red eyes that mesmerized him.

"You found me!" she cried, but before she could stand, she was sucked into the game with a shout. He lunged forward, reaching out for her, but she was already gone.

He examined the game console in frustration, running his hands over every seam, desperately trying to find a way to rescue her. The screen was flashing GAME OVER, mocking him. Sailor V was dancing across its screen, avoiding the blasts from a monster's mouth.

Hoping that he could rescue the young woman by playing the game, he went to check his pockets for change, but found that he was wearing heavy armor.

"Here," a voice called out to him, causing his heart to leap.

He turned to find Sailor Moon standing behind him looking radiant, the winged white mask she used to wear once again partially obscuring her face.

She held out her gloved hands, and he mimicked her actions. She smiled, then dumped a handful of change into his outstretched palms.

"Don't spend it all in once place," she said, before disappearing into the mist once more.

In his bed in Tokyo, Mamoru turned in his sleep, and in the morning, he didn't remember dreaming at all.

* * *

Across town, a woman awoke to a shrill beeping. She reached out, fumbling on her bedside table for the source of the noise. Grabbing the offending item with one hand, she rubbed her face with the other in an attempt to wake herself enough to deal with whatever was in store.

"Mercury here," she said, finally answering the call.

"Mercury, it's Venus. We have a problem."

Ami sighed. It had been a long day of rotations at the hospital and she was already running low on sleep.

"What's up?"

"We found another victim," Venus replied. "We need you here right away."

Ami sat up, throwing back her blankets and reaching for the transformation pen that was always near.

"I'm on my way."

* * *

11/12/16

Congratulations! You survived this horrible, shitty week! Woo! I've spent this week crying, protesting, yelling, and watching a lot of RuPaul's Drag Race. At the end of the day, diversions like this aren't going to solve any problems, but at least we can forget the realities of the world for a few minutes. And I, for one, am looking forward to Neo-Queen Serenity's coming reign. 3

Yes, it's true, I am trash and this is a secret child fic. I would say sorry but... truthfully, I like this trope. BUT! I promise it's not JUST a secret child fic, as you can see from the last section there. I hope it's intriguing enough to keep people who otherwise don't care for this trope engaged. If not... well, better luck next time, I guess!

I want to address an issue that someone raised in the comments regarding single motherhood and teenage pregnancy in Japan. Trust me, I am aware of the hardships. I read several articles, stats, and studies about it before beginning the fic, and while I don't know any single mothers in Japan (I know plenty of mothers, but they're all married!), there are a lot of single mothers in my family (including my sister, my niece, several cousins, and, for a while, my mother) and I've seen them fight and struggle and ultimately do what they need to to make it work. It's true, life is HARD for single mothers in Japan, and even harder for teenage mothers, who are typically kicked out of school. Usagi doesn't have an easy go of it, either, and that will be addressed a bit in the coming chapters. But ultimately, Usagi is a very special person with a lot of social support, and I strongly feel that her friends especially would understand her decisions and stand by her through thick and thin. And while this fic is not an accurate representation of what the average single mother would experience in Japan, well, it's a Sailor Moon fanfic! It was never meant to address the plight of single mothers, just one (fictional) single mother. ;)

Special thanks as always to my amazing beta Antigone2 and to all of you who commented/favd/followed Phantom after just the teaser of a prologue.


	3. Chapter 2

"The victim is 34-year-old Shimamura Yoko. Teacher. Unmarried." Police Superintendant General Sakurada Natsuna briefed Mercury as she led her through the winding halls of Ebisu International Hospital to the room where the woman lay unconscious. Despite the early hour, Sakurada looked impeccable in a designer suit, her high-heels clicking as she strode briskly through the hospital. The few people out and about in the corridors openly stared at the pair of women; one or two nurses called out greeting to Mercury, who had done quite a bit of fundraising and medical sleuthing on behalf of the local hospitals over the years.

"Shimamura was found about an hour ago after a man called the Senshi Hotline to report a strange glow behind some dumpsters," Sakurada continued. We soon discovered that she had been reported missing two days ago, after failing to show up for work. In that time, she made a number of strange purchases, including large amounts of food and men's clothing, before completely emptying her bank account."

"Let me guess, security footage showed her acting alone?" Mercury asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sakurada smirked. "Right in one."

"What's her current status?" Mercury asked.

"Unconscious," Sakurada explained. "Venus wanted to wait until you got here to take readings before she tried to revive her."

"I see," Mercury responded, quickening her pace. "Are Mars and Jupiter aware of the situation?"

Sakurada nodded. "They're at the attack site. Mars wanted to try to get a psychic read on the site to see if she could get any info about the perp's motivations. Hopefully she can find something because right now, we have a whole lot of nothing."

They soon reached a private room guarded by a police officer who brusquely opened the door to allow them entry. Inside, a small medical team was attempting to treat the unresponsive victim as Venus spoke with a handful of investigators.

Mercury greeted Venus with a nod before assessing the victim. She didn't need her computer to tell that the woman was in poor shape—much worse, in fact, than the previous victim. Despite her young age, the woman's face had a gaunt, skull-like appearance and her skin, which had taken on a strange gray tinge, looked papery and loose. Mercury quickly activated her visor and computer, scanning the woman's body for signs of life.

"Her vitals are incredibly weak," she said, going through the stats. "This woman is lucky to be alive. Her life force was nearly completely drained."

"What about the perpetrator's signature?" Venus asked. "Can you get a reading?"

"I'm scanning for it now," Mercury replied as she read and interpreted the huge amount of information being processed by her computer and visor. A few moments later she sighed, turning back to Venus. "It's as we suspected," Mercury confirmed. "Same perp as before. The attack signature is identical, just . . . worse. Go ahead and revive her, she's not going to last much longer without our intervention."

Venus nodded, stepping beside the hospital bed. The medical crew fell back as Venus prepared to revive the dying woman.

Opening a crescent shaped compact, Venus closed her eyes, concentrating her power. Though she appeared to be meditating, everyone in the room could feel the energy gathering, simmering just under her peaceful exterior. As her power grew, she was enveloped by a golden glow, filling the room with her eerie light.

"Venus Power," she cried, opening her eyes and holding her compact aloft, "Love Crescent Healing Shower!"

The immense energy in the room crackled before being sucked into Venus like a vacuum. The power was quickly transferred through her compact and rained down on the victim in a beautiful, shining shower of sparkling gold.

Mercury resumed scanning the victim, growing worried as it took longer and longer to revive her. Finally, the woman's face began to fill out and the deathly pallor left her. Venus fell back, looking slightly ashen as the woman began to stir. Sakurada ran to Venus, steadying her as she began to stumble. The medical team once again resumed their position by the victim's bedside, assisting her recovery.

"Are you alright, Venus?" Sakurada asked quietly.

"Fine, fine," she reassured her friend. "I just need to sit for a sec. That took a lot more energy than I was expecting." Sakurada nodded, guiding Venus to a chair.

Though she was confident that Venus would recover quickly, Mercury was worried. Besides being able to concentrate an immense amount of energy, hypothetically capable of healing several people at once, Venus had never before had this type of reaction after a healing. Venus must have had to imbue some of her own life force into the healing energy to fully revive the stricken woman. If their perpetrator continued to escalate, would Venus be able to cope with the possible influx of victims even worse off than this one? It was a disturbing thought.

From the hospital bed, the victim began to stir. She moaned, raising a hand trailing IVs and monitoring devices to her head.

"Ms. Shimamura," one of the doctors said, leaning toward the woman, "I'm Doctor Uchida. You're at Ebisu International Hospital. Can you hear me?"

The woman opened her eyes a crack, blinking them blearily. "Yes," she finally responded with a raspy voice.

"Good, good. How are you feeling?"

She grimaced, pressing her hand to her forehead. "My head . . . my head hurts . . ." The medical team quickly responded, injecting a pain reliever into one of her IVs.

"Ms. Shimamura, can you tell me the last thing you remember?" the doctor asked.

She swallowed thickly before answering. "Leaving for class. A man . . . near my car. He was . . . strange." She paused to take a drink of water from a cup one of the nurses held up for her. The drink seemed to help revive her. She opened her eyes more fully, trying to focus on the doctor. "He looked at me and said something . . . he had scary eyes," she said, shivering a little at the memory. "Then I woke up here."

One of the investigators approached the bed. "Ms. Shimamura, I'm Detective Sasaki. Could you describe the man for us?"

She shook her head, grimacing as she tried to picture her attacker. "I . . . I'm sorry, I don't remember much . . . just his eyes. They were dark and just . . . wrong." She shivered as the memory.

Venus rose from her chair and approached Mercury, touching her shoulder lightly. They looked at each other, sharing a wordless thought as the doctor resumed talking to the recovering victim. She had confirmed what they already suspected: it was the same attacker as before. The senshi were now facing their first supernatural threat in over a decade, and his attacks were escalating.

* * *

"Jupiter, you are a life saver," Mercury said as her friend handed her a mug of coffee co-opted from the game center above them, grateful for both her friend's thoughtfulness as well as the game center owner's insistence that the senshi help themselves to whatever they wanted in his arcade.

Motoki had long ago stumbled upon the women leaving their command center via his arcade, and after a long debate, they decided to come clean with him, revealing the truth behind their alter egos. Though he had been shocked, he quickly and whole-heartedly agreed to keep their identities secret, and offered to help them in any way he could. This rarely extended beyond copious amounts of coffee and the occasional pastry, (as well as the creation of a much-needed alternate entrance to their command center, accessible from the game center's storage area), but they appreciated his unwavering support nonetheless.

Mercury sighed as she sat against the command center's large console, breathing in the coffee's reassuring scent. She had arrived at the command center a few moments before, joining the rest of the senshi and their two guardian cats, who were monitoring the situation via the command center's computers.

It felt strange and slightly exhilarating to be back in the command center, facing a new threat together after so many years of inactivity. It had been a decade since they had needed to pool their powers to fight. In the interim, each senshi had done her part to help their city—Mars occasionally helped the police with missing persons; Mercury was known to assist the medical community with research and technology; Jupiter was often willing to help with civic fundraising, particularly for orphans; and Venus was frequently at police headquarters, closely working with Sakurada and other investigators on a special taskforce to address issues raised by the Senshi Hotline, as well as other cases earmarked by Sakurada. Each of these women now gathered in the command center, fervently hoping that they were up for the new threat.

"Were you able to find anything else out?" Venus asked Mercury once she had settled in.

"Not much, unfortunately," she began. "Ms. Shimamura was unable to provide any further description of her assailant, though her impression of his eyes was identical to the previous victim.

"I also scanned her for foreign DNA," Mercury continued, cradling her coffee mug in her hands. "There was quite a bit of it on her person, but that's to be expected, considering all of the people who came into contact with her after she was found. Unfortunately, none of the samples matched any from the other victim, nor did any match samples from the police database. Seems our perp is able to manipulate his victims without touching them."

"That makes sense," Venus said. "Both victims have mentioned looking into his eyes before blacking out. Maybe he's able to hypnotize them somehow."

"That's a good theory, Venus," Mercury replied. "He could also be using his voice to the same effect, or a combination of the two. We'll have to be on alert when confronting him in person."

The senshi looked at each other, exchanging grim looks. They were facing a new, unknown threat, and none of them were particularly eager to confront a man capable of draining energy or manipulating his victims without even touching them.

"How is Ms. Shimamura doing, Mercury?" Luna asked.

"She's recovering nicely. She'll be able to go home tomorrow."

"Well that's a relief," Venus said, sitting on the console. "I was afraid for a little while that she wasn't going to make it."

"So was I," Mercury said. "I didn't think it was possible for someone to survive with that much energy drained. If the next attack is worse . . ." Mercury shook her head. "Are you sure you're alright, Venus? Reviving her was no small feat, after all."

"Yep! Right as pain," she replied, holding two fingers up to make a jaunty V.

"Venus, that might be the least reassuring thing you've ever said," said Jupiter.

"Seriously," Mars muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I'm worried about how these attacks are escalating," Luna said, getting them back on track as she pulled up the stats of the two attacks onto the command center's screens. The senshi turned to the screens, examining the scant information they had on their new enemy and his victims. "Here we have our two victims: Nakada Akira, 41, found 16 days ago, and Shimamura Yoko, 34, found early this morning.

"First, Nakada," she said, enlarging the image of a businessman in thick black glasses. "He was missing for nearly a day before being found. Security footage shows that he visited ATMs across the city, withdrawing tens of thousands of yen each time. He required hospitalization, but the amount of energy drained was easily replenished with Venus's aid. He reported seeing the man, and then blacking out." Luna returned the image of the man to its previous size before enlarging the other photo.

"Now, Shimamura. She was missing for over two days, exhibited even more extreme activity that she has no memory of, and had nearly all of her energy drained." Luna tapped on the command center's console, reducing the image to its original size.

"In addition," she continued, bringing the image of a young man with shaggy hair onto the screen, "Artemis and I found another potential victim. This is Hoshino Koji, 26, convenience store clerk. He was found unconscious in an alley 37 days ago, but quickly regained consciousness. The reason he has not been on our radar before now is that his case was never escalated to the senshi task force. He also didn't exhibit any of the strange behaviors of the other two victims and wasn't reported missing. He seems to have collapsed shortly after leaving work."

"Why do you think he's related to our perp?" Mars asked, cocking her head at the young man's image.

"We suspect he's related not just because he exhibited symptoms of having his energy drained, but because he claims to have been attacked." Luna tapped a few more buttons on the screen, bringing up a police file from the month before.

"Victim cannot provide a description of perp," Jupiter read aloud, "aside from perp's 'deep, scary eyes.'"

The senshi grew silent, each contemplating the news that their new enemy could have been active for longer than they had realized, operating under the radar.

"Do you think there could be more victims?" Venus asked.

"It's possible," Artemis responded. "We're looking into it, but it will take time to comb through all of the police reports."

"You should investigate hospital records as well," suggested Mercury. "It's possible other victims could have been taken to the hospital and never filed a police report."

"Good idea, Mercury," Luna said.

"Is it possible that this could be related to Metalia, somehow?" Jupiter asked, crossing her arms as she read through the information on the screen.

"I doubt it," replied Mars. "The readings I've done indicate an entirely new threat."

"I agree," said Mercury. "This perpetrator has an entirely different energy signature than Metalia or any of the people working for her. We have no reason to believe they have reappeared."

"So what's this guy's motivation?" Jupiter asked.

"At this point," Luna said, "it's really impossible to say."

"So basically, he's just gathering energy for some unknown purpose?" Venus said.

Luna shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I'm afraid so, unless Mars was able to glean any info from the attack site."

Mars shook her head. "I was able to get some very low-level impressions from the site, but nothing that will help us. There is just a lot of anger—a wish for control, for revenge. The sacred fire has also been vague. I can see the man's black aura, but not much else."

"What about the money and the items he had Shimamura acquire? Couldn't we get some clues there?" Venus asked.

"True," Luna agreed. "It's possible he could be gathering supplies for his own purposes, or perhaps for himself and a few others. We have no way to know at this point."

"But it does seem like he's gathering essentials at this point," reasoned Mercury. "Food, money, clothing. . . . It's possible that he's new to the area, which would mean that he needs shelter, too."

"Which could easily be acquired with the amount of money he's obtained," said Mars.

"Maybe Nakada or Shimamura acted as a go-between while they were under his control," suggested Luna. "That could give us some information regarding his movements."

Everyone was silent for a few moments, trying to process the increasingly worrisome situation.

"This sucks," Jupiter declared, banging a fist on the computer console. "It feels like we're chasing a ghost."

"Well," Venus said after a few moments, "I should probably go speak with Sakurada and arrange another press conference. We need all the help we can get, considering how elusive he's managed to be so far."

"Good idea, Venus," Artemis agreed as Venus stood to leave. "You should probably go ahead and ask Nakada and Shimamura permission to distribute their pictures as well, in case they were acting on behalf of him at some point to get housing or whatever."

"I'll talk with Sakurada about it," she said as she stood to leave. "I'll also set up an interview with Hoshino. Mars, Mercury, I'd like you both to be present for the interview as well, to both confirm that he's another victim and to see if you can gather any more information from him."

"Good idea," Mercury said as Mars nodded her head in agreement.

"Artemis and I will stay here to monitor the city and keep an eye on the Senshi Hotline and to investigate other victims," Luna added. "We'll let all of you know if we find anything."

"All right," Venus replied. "Keep us posted."

"Right," Artemis said, watching Venus leave the sanctuary of the command center.

"I think I'll head home, too," said Mercury, setting down her nearly empty mug. "I might as well try to get a nap before I head to the hospital for rotations."

Jupiter sighed, slumping forward. "There's no way I'm going to be able to go back to sleep. Mars, want to grab breakfast?"

"Sounds good," she replied, stretching her arms over her head. "I'll need to go home and change, though."

"Yeah, same," Jupiter laughed. "I don't really feel like eating out in my nightie."

"Do you know if Usagi's working this morning?"

"She's off today," Luna supplied.

"No way she'll be up right now," Jupiter said, looking at the clock, "it's only 5:45!"

"Well I think she's due for a wake-up call," Mars smirked as Jupiter laughed.

"You girls stay safe," Luna said as they got up to leave.

"We will, Luna," Mercury reassured her.

"Yeah, don't worry Luna," Jupiter said as they walked up the stairs to the game center. "We'll get this guy!"

Luna sighed as she watched them disappear into the early morning light, worry plain on her face.

"I'm sure we'll find him soon," Artemis reassured Luna.

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head, "unless he finds us first . . ."

* * *

12/3/16

What do you guys think of our mysterious new baddie? Are you intrigued (I hope)? :D

Thanks as always to everyone who commented, fav'd, and followed. Thank you so, so much for reading. And a big thank you to my beta, Antigone2. I couldn't do this without you!


	4. Chapter 3

Previously, on _Phantom_ :

Mamoru returns from America to find that Usagi has a daughter, Chibi-Usa. He inadvertently gets on her bad side when asking a question about Chibi-Usa's father, which, unknown to him, is a forbidden topic. Meanwhile, the senshi investigate the first supernatural enemy since they defeated the Dark Kingdom a decade ago. The mysterious baddy takes control of his victims and drains their energy, and is escalating his attacks.

* * *

"You really are an idiot, Mamoru."

"Thanks, Motoki."

Mamoru was once again occupying his favorite barstool at Crown Game Center, but this time a different blond was giving him grief. After successfully surprising Motoki and spending the last hour catching up, their conversation had turned to Usagi and how Mamoru had inadvertently stepped on an emotional landmine the day before.

"You seriously brought up Chibi-Usa's father?" Motoki asked, incredulous that his friend could possibly be so stupid. "How tactless can you be?"

"I didn't know the subject was verboten, OK?" he replied, holding his coffee cup between them as a small porcelain shield. "And I didn't bring him up, I just . . . asked if she was married . . . to him."

Motoki raised an eyebrow as Mamoru cleared his throat and studiously avoided making eye contact, suddenly finding the nearly empty arcade very interesting. Motoki sighed, shaking his head as Mamoru silently drank his coffee with an increasingly guilty look on his face.

"Look, Mamoru," Motoki said, taking pity on his friend, "you have to understand. Usagi was 18 when she got pregnant. She was only a few months out of high school when she had Chibi-Usa. She almost got kicked out of school because of it! Being a single mother at 19 . . . it was really rough on her. She got a lot of grief from a lot of people."

Mamoru set down his coffee, his eyebrows knit together in concern. "Did Chibi-Usa's father not help out at all?"

Motoki shook his head. "It's not that . . . Usagi actually refused to tell anyone who the father was. We still don't know who he is for sure. And believe me, her parents tried every tactic they could. They even kicked her out for a while—she had to move in with Makoto—but Usagi wouldn't tell."

"Seriously? They kicked her out?" Mamoru said, setting down his coffee.

"Yeah, it was really bad. Her father wouldn't speak to her for a long time but her mom was more sympathetic, especially once Chibi-Usa was born. Ikuko put her foot down while Usagi was still in the hospital and insisted Usagi move back home with the baby, which she did. Kenji got over himself pretty quickly after that, thankfully."

"Man . . . poor Usagi. I can't imagine how hard that must have been," Mamoru said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, it was rough, but she's a lot tougher than people give her credit for. And it all worked out in the end, right?"

"I suppose." Mamoru shifted in his seat, tapping a finger on his mug as he wondered what would drive Usagi to such extremes to keep Chibi-Usa's father's identity a secret. He stilled as a horrifying possibility crossed his mind. "You don't think some guy . . . forced himself on her, do you?"

"No, no, it was nothing like that," Motoki said as Mamoru let out a sigh of relief. "I personally think that she really loved Chibi-Usa's father, and I know her friends think so, too. They suspect she might have been having a secret love affair for a while, but she's never confirmed it. No one knows the true circumstances, or honestly if the father even knows about Chibi-Usa."

"Odango Atama with a secret lover . . . " Mamoru shook his head as Motoki refilled his empty mug. It seemed hard to believe that the silly, adorable teenager carried on a secret love affair, but Chibi-Usa was living proof. "She must have been pretty devoted to keep his identity a secret this whole time," he considered aloud. "And nobody knows who it was? Not even the girls?"

A smirk grew on Motoki's face as he leaned toward Mamoru. "Now, don't go spreading this around," Motoki said in a low voice, "but there has been some speculation about Chibi-Usa's father's identity." Mamoru raised an eyebrow at the mischievous gleam in Motoki's eyes; it was a look he knew well, and it meant one thing: steaming hot gossip was imminent.

"Oh yeah?" Mamoru replied dryly, knowing he'd be hearing the rumor whether or not he expressed interest.

Motoki took a quick glance around the arcade. Confident that neither the high schoolers cutting class to play video games nor elderly men in the corner booth were eavesdropping, he ducked down, leaning toward Mamoru.

"Rumor has it," Motoki conspiratorially whispered as Mamoru sipped his coffee, "that Chibi-Usa's father is actually Tuxedo Mask."

Shocked, Mamoru sucked in a mouthful of coffee, choking briefly before managing to clear his airways by spitting his coffee on the man in front of him. Motoki leapt back but it was too late; his face and most of the counter were already covered in a thin coating of coffee, courtesy of Mamoru, who was coughing and attempting to process Motoki's dubious revelation.

"Sorry, Motoki," Mamoru apologized once he caught his breath. Motoki glared at his friend, grumpily wiping his face with a clean rag. "No, you know what?" Mamoru continued, changing his mind. "I'm not sorry. Because seriously? That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Mamoru picked up his mug as Motoki scowled and sprayed the counter with cleaner before wiping it down.

"It's not as stupid as you might think," Motoki groused, pointing the soaked rag in Mamoru's face.

"Yes, it is. _Trust_ me. Where did you even hear a rumor like that?"

"I have my senshi sources," Motoki answered haughtily, earning a derisive snort from Mamoru.

"'Senshi sources?'" Mamoru scoffed. "Don't you think it's more plausible that she's trying to protect a classmate's reputation? Or maybe the father was married or something?"

"I don't know . . ." Motoki scratched his cheek, looking skeptical.

"Well, I know it wasn't Tuxedo Mask," Mamoru said, draining the last of his coffee. "And I think that you and Minako have spent a little too much time discussing this."

"Yeah, you're not wrong there," Motoki conceded, deciding that any further argument over the matter would be unwise, lest he put any of the girls' secret identities at risk. He grabbed the coffee carafe to refill Mamoru's mug.

"So what should I do?" Mamoru asked, holding the warm mug between his hands.

"About what?"

"About Usagi," he said, raising his eyebrows, "and how she probably hates me now?"

"Eh, I wouldn't be too worried," Motoki replied. "Yeah, you messed up, but she forgives easily."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Trust me, you'll be fine. Just . . . don't bring it up again," Motoki chuckled.

"C'mon, man, how stupid do you think I am?"

Motoki gave his friend a hard look. "I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to bring it up the first time but . . ."

Mamoru scowled and sipped his coffee as a jingle from the front door caught Motoki's attention. He looked over Mamoru's shoulder to greet the newcomer.

"Hey Minako!" he called, causing Mamoru to turn. The sun was a spotlight silhouetting her as she passed through the arcade's doors, her bountiful blonde hair bouncing with every step. In a maxi dress accentuating every curve, she cut a striking figure in the sleepy arcade. Though an enormous pair of sunglasses obscured part of her face, it was clear that she was a remarkably beautiful woman; even the old timers in the corner looked up from their morning coffee to ogle her as she swept through the arcade.

"Hey Motoki," she said as she approached the counter, then grinned as she recognized Mamoru. "Well, well, if it isn't the esteemed Dr. Chiba. I was wondering when I'd run into you!" She removed her sunglasses with a practiced flourish and perched them on her head.

"Nice to see you too, Minako," Mamoru replied as he raised his coffee cup to the older, but still unmistakable, Aino Minako.

"You knew he was back in town?" Motoki asked, wounded at the thought that Minako could have known that Mamoru had returned to Japan before he did.

"Sure did. A little bunny told me," she explained as she stood beside Mamoru. As he sipped his coffee, Mamoru took note of the hairline cracks in her otherwise perfect veneer; dark circles under her eyes marred an otherwise flawless face, and Mamoru noticed that her smile looked a little strained.

"Figures," Motoki said. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," she said, the exhaustion evident on her face finally creeping into her voice.

"Long night?" Motoki asked as he placed a mug before her.

Minako nodded. "Actually could I get the coffee to go? And some food, too? I still have a lot more work to do."

Motoki frowned, replacing the mug with an extra-large to-go cup and filling it. "Seriously?"

"'Fraid so."

"What do you want to eat?"

"I don't care . . . a skillet, I guess?" she said, grabbing a sugar dispenser and pouring several tablespoons worth into her coffee. "Something with bacon. And eggs. And hollandaise."

"Sure thing."

"Oh, and a side of fruit," she added as Motoki began keying her order into the system. "Gotta keep it healthy, right doc?" She winked at Mamoru, who merely shook his head in amusement.

"Got it," Motoki confirmed.

"Thanks." She took a sip of coffee, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Ugh . . . needs more sugar . . ." she muttered, grabbing the dispenser once again as Motoki stepped into the kitchen to help prep her order.

"So . . . what is it that you do, Minako?" Mamoru asked.

"I'm a police consultant."

"Wow, really?" Mamoru leaned back slightly, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "How'd you get into that?"

"Just something I kinda fell into," she said with a tired smile.

"I'm surprised a consultant would have such strenuous hours. Do they make you work overnight often?" he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

"No, not usually, but the case I'm on is pretty urgent. I don't mind, really . . . it's very rewarding work. I really can't imagine doing anything else, despite the weird hours."

Mamoru chuckled, thinking of the arduous shifts he'd put in at hospitals throughout his years in medical school. "Yeah . . . that sounds familiar."

A beeping coming from Minako's gigantic purse caught her attention. She sighed and began digging through the designer bag for the offending item. "Where is that stupid . . . ah ha!" The beeping soon ceased, though the item stayed hidden deep within the recesses of her purse. "Sorry Mamoru, I really do need to get back to work . . . hey Motoki!" she called. His face quickly appeared in order pass-through window. "I'm going to use the office, OK?"

"No problem, Minako. I'll bring you your food when it's ready."

"Thanks! Nice to see you again, Mamoru," she said, grabbing her coffee.

"Same to you, Minako. Hopefully I'll see you around?"

"For sure!" She waved, then made her way to the back of the arcade, slipping through a doorway into an employee area leading to the hidden back entrance of the command center and out of Mamoru's sight.

Left alone while Motoki finished Minako's food, Mamoru pondered the surprising fates of the two blonde women he'd parted ways with long ago. From what he could remember of the teenaged Minako, she seemed destined to go into the entertainment industry—an actress or singer; perhaps even a politician. He never would have predicted that the charismatic blonde would end up working for the police. And while he'd had a day to process Usagi's situation, he couldn't help but feel impressed and a little intrigued by her. He was looking forward to getting reacquainted with her . . . _if_ she forgave him.

Mamoru swirled the last of his coffee in his mug as Motoki emerged from the kitchen with a plate of food and a roll of silverware.

"Be right back, Mamoru," he said, quickly following Minako's path, reappearing a short time later empty handed.

"So," Mamoru began as Motoki grabbed the coffee carafe and refilled his mug, "why is Minako using your office?"

"Um . . . we uh . . . have _really_ fast Internet here," Motoki explained, placing the carafe back on its warming plate. "And food. So, y'know . . . yeah."

"Huh." Mamoru pondered Minako's odd work habits as he blew on his too-hot coffee. "Does she work here often?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," he said, leaning across the bar toward Mamoru. "To be honest, I'm happy when she works here. It means I can keep an eye on her; make sure she's eating and stuff. If she's really into a case she tends to get into the zone and neglects stuff like eating and sleeping."

"So a police consultant? Minako?"

"Yep! She's been doing it for a while. Works some big cases, too."

Mamoru shook his head in amazement as he sipped his coffee. "Speaking of big cases . . . did you hear about the guy who's been attacking people and draining their energy? It's been all over the news this morning. I guess Sailor Venus is giving a press conference later."

"Yeah, Reika's been freaking out about it." Motoki sighed, shaking his head at the latest threat to his city's safety. "But I'm sure the senshi will be able to get that guy behind bars soon."

"I guess . . ." Mamoru's brow furrowed as his gaze wandered to the doorway he saw Minako disappear through. "I wonder if that's the case Minako's working on."

Motoki laughed nervously, his eyes flickering to the sole remaining Sailor V game console in the middle of the arcade, its glory days long over. "Yeah, I wonder . . ."

* * *

Aya cursed herself as she caught the time on her computer's clock: 3:24 AM. Seriously? How had she allowed herself to get caught up in Internet randomness like this yet again? Soon the crows would be up, yelling at each other at the top of their lungs from across rooftops, and then she'd never get any sleep.

She sighed and closed her laptop, willing herself to get up and brush her teeth before at least attempting to get some sleep before she had to get up for work. Rising from her futon, she padded across her studio apartment and into the bathroom, making quick work of her bedtime routine.

On her way back to bed, she caught sight of the overflowing bag of recycling she'd leaned against the front door earlier in the evening and cursed herself yet again. She knew they'd be picking it up in a few hours—long before she would be up—and wouldn't be back for another week. She'd already let it go for the past 3 weeks . . . was it worth having it in her way for another?

She frowned, weighing her options before begrudgingly accepting that she should at least _try_ to do something responsible today. Aya looked down at her pajamas—a frilly pink set she'd bought at the cute lingerie shop near work—and frowned. Oh well, it covered everything well enough and if she hurried, she could make it down to the trash drop-off and back in just a minute or two. It's not like anyone would be out anyway, and she was willing to bet that the other night owls were already asleep or wholly invested in their Internet pursuits and wouldn't be bothering to spy on the non-existent foot traffic outside.

Picking up the bag of recycling, she opened the door a crack and peeked outside. As she suspected, the coast was clear, and the few windows still glowing from within were covered by thick curtains, hiding their occupants from sight.

She slipped outside and rushed down the hallway, down the stairs, and across the small courtyard, quickly reaching the trash pick-up, which was already filled with her more-responsible neighbors' recycling. Bending down to lift the heavy green netting that kept the garbage bags in place, she stilled after hearing a rustling behind her, her nerves suddenly on high alert. She turned, pulling the bag of recycling to her chest as she saw a shadow move below the metal stairs of the apartment building.

"Who's there?" she called, slowly backing into the cinder-block wall that separated her building's property from the neighboring property, trying not to stumble over the netting or bags of bottles and cans piled up beside her.

Aya squinted as a figure slowly emerged from the blackness . . . or rather, that the blackness gave way to a being more dark than it could ever be. Aya felt her heart racing as the shadowy figure took the shape of a man—a man with a skull-like face and terrible eyes that she couldn't tear her gaze away from.

"Who are you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Aya gasped as the man's intense gaze boar into hers; she shook her head trying to escape his eyes but couldn't look away. Her breathing came more labored as her vision began to narrow and gray at the edges, her head fuzzy. "What . . . what do you want?" she managed to sputter.

The man chuckled, holding up a claw-like hand. "I want you."

Aya's eyes widened as a purple glow emanated from his hand, snaking toward her. Her chest felt hot as a tendril of golden light was reaching toward him . . . was it from her? She desperately wanted to look but her gaze was still frozen on his. Soon purple met gold, and quickly absorbed it. She blinked rapidly, the bag of recycling dropping forgotten to her side as his will overpowered hers; soon Aya felt her racing heart slow, her erratic breaths steady. Her thoughts fading, she briefly wondered if he was in her mind before her will was erased entirely.

"Relax, Aya," the man commanded. She looked at him unblinkingly, her face a calm mask. "Why don't you put something less conspicuous on? You have work to do."

The woman that was once Aya stepped forward, ready to do his bidding.

"Yes, Death Phantom."

* * *

2/20/17

My apologies for how long it took to get this chapter out! Hopefully the next one won't take nearly as long, though things are ramping up at work so I might not have much time to work on this in the next few weeks. We'll see!

Thanks as always to Antigone2, the Usagi to my Minako.


	5. Chapter 4

Previously, on _Phantom_ :

Mamoru returns from America to find that Usagi has a daughter, Chibi-Usa. Meanwhile, the senshi investigate the first supernatural enemy since they defeated the Dark Kingdom a decade ago. Death Phantom takes control of his victims' minds, such as his latest victim Aya, and drains their energy. Tokyo is on alert and on the lookout for this mysterious attacker.

* * *

The shaggy-haired man stood outside of the brightly lit convenience store, nervously shifting from foot to foot as he smoked. He found, to his surprise, that the cigarette he had just started smoking was already nearly burned up; he had managed to smoke the entire thing without noticing. That was happening a lot lately—ever since that night.

He threw the spent cigarette butt into the nearby ashtray and pulled another from his backpack, lighting it with an unsteady hand. It was his fourth since he had arrived, but he couldn't muster the energy to care about his smoking habits at the moment. He sucked in deeply, letting the smoke invade his lungs. He tried desperately to feel the rush of nicotine with the hope that it would help calm his nerves.

It was the first time since that night that he'd been back, and the animal instinct in the back of his brain told him it was wrong. Told him to leave and never come back. But he had to be there; he'd promised. He just hoped they wouldn't be much longer—night would be falling soon.

"Hoshino Koji?"

The voice that broke the silence startled him, nearly making him drop his cigarette. Turning, he saw the people he'd been waiting for: Sailor Venus, Sailor Mars, and Sailor Mercury. He relaxed slightly, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"That's me." He coughed, flicking the spent gray ash from the tip of the cigarette.

"Thank you so much for meeting us here," Sailor Venus told him. She was the only one looking at him; Mars was scrutinizing the surroundings and Mercury had a visor across her face and was rapidly tapping on a miniature computer in her palm.

Several pedestrians openly gawked at the sight of three of the senshi gathered in front of the local Family Mart, and many whipped out their phones to get quick snapshots of them.

Koji shifted uncomfortably, taking another drag from his cigarette. "No problem."

"So, this is the site of the attack, correct?"

He coughed again. "Nah, it was around back. In the alley."

"Can you show us?"

He nodded, stubbing out what was left of his cigarette on the ashtray and disposing of it.

"This way."

The three senshi followed the young man around the side of the building and into a secluded alley lined with dumpsters from the surrounding businesses. Tall buildings surrounded them, blocking the sun's dying light and plunging them into a gray twilight.

"It was here," he said, pointing to a spot near one of the dumpsters.

"Could you describe what happened?" Venus asked as Mercury's typing grew more frantic. Mars steadily gazed at him.

"Well, I had just finished my 10–4 shift," he began.

"Four AM?" Mercury asked.

"That's right." He fished another cigarette out and lit it, taking a deep drag before continuing. "I came back here to smoke before I headed home. And then I noticed this dude. He was standing over there." He indicated a particularly dark corner of the alley, the smoldering tip of his cigarette pointing the way in the falling darkness. "He asked me if he could bum a smoke. I said sure." He paused, taking another drag. "As I got closer to him . . . I realized, there's something wrong with this guy. His eyes were so dark—like they weren't even there. Like a skull or something."

Venus nodded sympathetically as Mars and Mercury shared a meaningful look. Koji flicked his cigarette.

"Then the next thing I know," he continued, "it's light out and my coworker was leaning over me, slapping me awake. I felt like shit—like the worst hangover of my life or something."

"And nothing was taken? No money missing from your wallet or bank account?"

Koji shook his head.

"Did you bring the clothing you were wearing that night?" Venus asked.

"Yeah," he said, pulling a bundle from his backpack. "I brought the work shirt I was wearing, just like you asked."

"You don't mind if I borrow it for a few days?" Sailor Mars asked.

"Nah," he said, handing it off to Sailor Mars. "Burn it for all I care. I don't work here anymore."

"Oh?" Venus raised her eyebrows.

"Not after what happened." He coughed again. "That dude just . . ." He shook his head. "I just can't work here anymore."

"I understand," Venus said.

"You uh . . . you think it could be the same guy you were talking about on TV?"

"Do you think it is?" Venus asked him.

Koji took a drag from his rapidly dwindling cigarette. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Why is that?"

"When I saw the police sketch . . ." He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

"Mercury, Mars, why don't you both stay here and take readings while I talk to Hoshino-san out front?"

They nodded and Venus walked with Koji back near the front of the Family Mart, where a few warm rays of sunlight still managed to shine. He relaxed slightly.

"Thank you, Hoshino-san. I know this was difficult for you."

He shrugged.

"In my opinion, it is highly likely that you were attacked by the man we're after. Would you like me to contact you when we have finished our analysis?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Listen, you went through a pretty serious incident. Others who have had similar experiences have been given counseling and other support services to help them process and deal with what they went through. I'd like to offer you the same services. I think it could help you."

He thought about the nightmares that had been plaguing him—the soulless eyes that haunted him. He thought about the worried looks of his mother and the panic attack that he'd had earlier in the day at the very thought of returning to that dark alley. "Maybe . . . maybe that would be a good idea."

"Here," she said, producing a card seemingly from nowhere and handing it to him. "When you're ready, give this counseling service a call. I've worked with them a lot. Show them this card and they will see you for as long as you like for no charge."

He took the card, thumbing the heart embossed in gold above the company name and contact information. It shined, reflecting the last glimmers of sunlight before twilight fully took hold. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling calmer than he had in weeks.

"Thanks."

"Would you like me to escort you home?"

"No, that's alright," he said, carefully tucking the card into his wallet. "I'll be OK."

"Alright. Well, good luck with everything. And if you ever need anything, you know how to get ahold of me."

"Right. Yeah, good luck to you, too."

She smiled, waving to him as she vanished back into the alley.

Koji wasted no time lingering. He pulled out another cigarette, lighting it before heading home to call the lifeline Venus had handed him.

* * *

For the first time in several weeks, Rei felt a glimmer of hope.

Earlier in the evening, she, Mercury, and Venus agreed that Hoshino Koji had indeed been attacked by the mysterious new foe haunting their city. Yes, the impressions she got on the site were faint and stale—the attack had happened over a month prior, after all—but they also gave Mars a stronger feeling for the actual person behind the attack than the other sites they'd been to. Maybe, just maybe, since Hoshino had been an early—if not his first—victim, he didn't have the amount of energy needed to completely mask himself prior to the attack. And maybe, just maybe, Rei would be able to get a glimpse of them man they were chasing and they'd finally have something to go on.

She sat in her customary spot before the great fire, placing Hoshino's black uniform shirt in front of her. She then brought her hands together, pointing her thumbs and index fingers while entwining the others. It was no coincidence that her meditative posture used the same hand position as her Fire Soul attack—channeling the energy of the fire was in her very being.

She closed her eyes, beginning her meditation. Communing with the fire was second nature to her, and she quickly cleared her mind, focusing on the fire and the shirt before her. Soon she was in deep meditation, her eyelids faintly fluttering as her mind melded with the sacred fire, probing deep within to find the answers it had to give.

Suddenly, a face appeared in the flames of her mind, dark and menacing and full of powerful hatred, with inhuman eyes black and gaping. In the middle of his forehead a grotesque slit grew and snapped opened, revealing a third, bloodred eye that stared straight into Rei's soul. A moment later the vision was gone and Rei gasped, falling back in shock.

She was still trying to process the overwhelming emotions she felt when the flames of the sacred fire flared and died—a terrible omen. An omen of death and destruction.

Rei shivered in the darkness. Her hope had vanished with the flames.

* * *

"Back again, Dr. Baka?" Usagi grinned when she spotted the now-familiar sight of Mamoru occupying the 2nd barstool to the right as she emerged from the kitchen. While he hadn't been in every day, he had certainly been a frequent visitor in the week since his return to Tokyo. "Don't you have any friends?"

He pretended to ignore her teasing as she swept by with a tray of food, which she delivered to a table of teenagers recently freed from their educational prison. When she returned, she didn't even bother asking Mamoru for his order before stepping behind the counter, setting a mug down in front of him, and filling it with coffee.

"Wow, lucky me," he said with genuine surprise after taking sip. "A fresh pot."

"Yeah well, I figured you might be in soon so . . ."

Mamoru smiled at her admission. "You'd better be careful, Odango, or I might start to think you actually like me."

Scrunching up her face, Usagi leaned on the counter across from Mamoru and threw a hastily balled-up napkin at him, hitting him square in the nose. He quickly grabbed the projectile before it could land in his coffee.

"You're so thoughtful. Thank you, Usagi," he said as he smoothed the napkin across his lap.

Usagi rolled her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you're insufferable?"

Mamoru picked up his coffee. "Yes," he replied, taking a sip. "You."

Though she would never admit it, Usagi found their light banter . . . refreshing. Fun. Easy. Almost like a silly, harmless flirtation. _Almost,_ she repeatedly told herself _._ And while she had never had much trouble attracting male attention, his was the first in a long time that she didn't mind so much; maybe even welcomed, a little bit.

"Well," she said, leaning dangerously close to him, "I was right. You are insufferable."

He grinned and took another sip of coffee, willing himself to keep his eyes on hers and not on the tempting glimpse cleavage now in view through the gap in the top of her shirt. He closed his eyes, wondering if she was aware of what she was doing, knowing that the white lace bra with the little pink bow in the center would be haunting his thoughts for at least a few days.

"So," she said, straightening up and ending Mamoru's torture, "how is apartment hunting going?"

"Actually, I just signed a lease this morning," he said, placing his mug on the counter.

Since returning to Tokyo, Mamoru had been staying at a cheap hotel—an easy stopgap until he could find more permanent lodgings. He had lost track of all of the apartments his real estate agent had dragged him to in the last week, until finally finding one that hit the sweet spot of the right size, price, and location.

"Really?" Usagi said, perking up. "Congrats! That must be quite a relief. It took forever for Chibi-Usa and me to find our place. And then you have to get furniture and stuff . . ."

"Yeah . . ." He shook his head, sighing. "To be honest, I'm not even sure where to begin as far as that goes."

"I can suggest some stores for you to check out, if you'd like," she offered.

"Really? That would be great," he said.

"Of course! No problem." She watched as he picked up his mug and took another drink. "So, where's your new place?"

"Near Iidabashi Station."

"Off the Namboku Line?"

"Yep. Tozai is right there as well," Mamoru explained, "so it's pretty convenient for me."

Usagi nodded, picturing the location. Waseda, where Mamoru would shortly begin teaching, was off of the Tozai Line. The Namboku Line, on the other hand, ran straight through Azabu-Juban, where Crown was located.

"Convenient for your coffee habit, you mean," she teased.

He chuckled. "Guess there's no getting rid of me now, Odango."

Truthfully, he had been focusing his search in that general area, though this place seemed more perfectly situated than most. Easy access to Waseda _and_ Crown? It was a no-brainer.

He had spent the last week trying to convince himself his attachment to the arcade was due to Motoki and had nothing to do with bunnies big or small.

It wasn't working.

"Chibi-Usa and I live off the Namboku Line, too, but the other way," she said, waving vaguely to the south. "So _clearly_ it's the best line."

"Really?" Mamoru said, looking Usagi in the eye before finishing off his coffee. "Good to know."

He smiled, setting down his empty cup. Usagi, feeling her face turning red, quickly turned and took her time retrieving the coffee carafe, waiting for her blush to die down a bit before turning back to face Mamoru again. He smiled innocently as she refilled his cup, making her think she wasn't as successful as she had hoped at hiding her blush.

"Insufferable," she muttered, earning a grin from Mamoru.

As she refilled his cup, a shock of strawberry-blonde hair caught her eye. "Hey sweetie," she called, causing Mamoru to turn to see the little girl, but Chibi-Usa didn't respond. They watched as she slowly made her way toward the counter, head down, lips pursed, steps as heavy as her too-small-for-her-age body could muster.

Mamoru frowned. It was the first time he'd seen Chibi-Usa be anything other than her usual sunny, chipper self.

Usagi, however, didn't seem overly concerned, merely raising her eyebrows at the unhappy child dragging her feet.

Finally reaching the stool beside Mamoru, the little girl sighed, then set her pink leather backpack on the counter and climbed onto the seat.

"OK, let's get it over with," Usagi said, holding a hand out to her daughter.

Chibi-Usa pouted for a few moments before unlatching her bag, fishing out a sheet of paper, and sliding it over to her mother. Usagi picked up the paper, looking it over with a frown.

Taking a peek, Mamoru quickly realized it was an English test—an English test that Chibi-Usa had spectacularly bombed. Across the top, in bright red script, was her abysmal score: _30_. Mamoru bit his lip to hold back a smile; it was the same score that had been his first introduction to the girl's mother so many years before, after she balled up her own failed English test and hit him square between the eyes with it.

"You're lucky we don't live with Grandma Ikuko anymore or you'd be going to bed without dinner tonight," Usagi said, handing the test back to Chibi-Usa.

"Stupid English," Chibi-Usa muttered, stuffing the test back into her bag.

"It's not stupid, Chibi-Usa," Usagi chided.

"No . . . it's _me_ that's stupid," she replied with a quivering voice as her face crumpled. She quickly crossed her arms on the counter and buried her head in them.

"Oh Chibi-Usa . . ." Usagi quickly moved to her sniffling daughter's side, crouching beside her stool while rubbing her back sympathetically. "Baby, you're not stupid. It's OK, you'll do better next time."

"You always say that," Chibi-Usa replied without raising her head. "But it's never true."

Usagi closed her eyes and sighed at the melodramatic 7-year-old before turning to Mamoru.

"Honestly," Usagi explained to him in a low voice as she continued to rub Chibi-Usa's back, "it's the only subject she has trouble with. I try to help but . . . well, I don't understand it any better than she does."

Mamoru's heart twisted watching the little girl sniffling. He certainly knew how she felt; it's not like every subject came easily to him, either. He wondered if her teacher ever offered additional support, like after-school tutoring or something. Then an idea popped into his head.

What if . . .

"Can I help?" Mamoru asked.

"It's OK, she'll cheer up in a few minutes," Usagi reassured him.

"No, no, I mean, what if I help with her English? Tutor her or something? I did live in the US for the last 8 years, I'm pretty sure I could be useful."

Usagi cocked her head, a smile growing on her lips as his suggestion sunk in.

"Did you hear that, Chibi-Usa?" she asked, leaning toward the girl, petting her head comfortingly. "What would you think if Dr. Chiba helped you?"

Chibi-Usa adjusted her face so that a single red-rimmed eye peeked out above her crossed arms. "You really want to help me?" she asked with a muffled voice.

"Absolutely," he said, giving her a genuine smile. "You'd be helping me, too. I'm going to be a teacher soon, so you can be my guinea pig and tell me if I'm doing a good job."

Chibi-Usa lifted her head, rubbing her eyes to clear them of the last few tears. "Thank you, Dr. Chiba," she said between lingering sniffles.

"Oh please, call me Mamoru."

"Thank you, Mamoru," she said, grinning for the first time since entering the arcade, causing warmth to spread in Mamoru's chest.

"How about I make you a shake and you can show Mamoru your schoolwork?" Usagi asked, finally standing up.

"OK." Chibi-Usa nodded, wiping her eyes.

By the time Usagi returned with the shake (and a coffee refill for Mamoru), the two had already gotten to work, discussing the various papers spread across the counter in front of them.

She left them to their work as the afterschool wave of customers hit in earnest, peeking over at them as she worked, her eyes inevitably drawn to them whenever she had a spare moment. She was pleasantly surprised at her daughter's smiles and giggles while being tutored in her most hated subject, and seeing Mamoru's genuine interest in helping Chibi-Usa made her heart melt.

"How's it going over here?" Usagi asked after her section finally died down a while later.

"Mama, look!" Chibi-Usa put aside the drawing she was working on and pulled the worksheet out of her bag, happily holding it up for Usagi to see. "He explained everything and now it makes sense!"

"Wow! That's great, baby!" she said, returning her daughter's bright smile. Usagi glanced at Mamoru, who was looking at Chibi-Usa with a subtle smile and proud eyes.

"He's a _much_ better teacher than Ms. Kawaguchi," Chibi-Usa explained. Usagi cringed at her daughter's lack of tact as Mamoru chuckled.

"She did awesome," he said. "She just needed someone to explain it properly." His smile grew as Chibi-Usa turned to him and beamed, then returned to her drawing.

"Whacha drawing, Chibi-Usa?" Usagi asked, peering over her daughter's shoulder.

"Sailor Moon," she replied. Sure enough, Usagi could see the heroine on Chibi-Usa's lined notebook paper in her trademark pose, her distinctive hairstyle artfully splashed across the page in yellow crayon. "It's for Mamoru," Chibi-Usa added.

"Oh Chibi-Usa he doesn't want—"

"She asked for my favorite senshi," Mamoru interrupted. "And, well . . . I've always had a soft spot for Sailor Moon."

Usagi shook her head with a frown. "Liking Sailor Moon went out of style a long time ago, Mamoru."

"Good thing I've never paid attention to what's in style, then."

"True," Usagi replied, a grin spreading across her face. "That green jacket . . ."

"Hey, that was designer! I paid a lot of money for that jacket!"

"Just because something is expensive doesn't mean it's good, Baka."

"Done!" Chibi-Usa announced, presenting the finished drawing to Mamoru.

He took it from her, smiling as he looked over her work. There was Sailor Moon, in the midst of a battle with a youma that looked suspiciously like an anthropomorphized version of the worksheet they had been working on. 'Thank you, Mamoru! Love, Chibi-Usa' was written across the bottom in vivid red.

"This is great, Chibi-Usa. Thank you."

"See? Sailor Moon is kicking the homework youma in the face!" she pointed out unnecessarily.

Mamoru chuckled. "Yeah, I can see that."

"Can I go play, Mama?" she asked, turning to Usagi.

"Oh, I suppose." She pulled out the coin purse from behind the counter and handed it to Chibi-Usa.

"Thanks again, Mamoru! See you next time!"

"Sure thing, Chibi-Usa."

She waved as she ran into the depth of the arcade, quickly joining a group of kids at one of the games, who all happily greeted her.

"Next time?" Usagi asked.

Mamoru shrugged nonchalantly. "I told her I'd help her again, if she wanted."

Usagi smiled, fighting the butterflies that erupted in her chest. "Thank you, seriously, Mamoru," she said, topping off his coffee. "It really means a lot to me that you helped her."

"Of course. It was my pleasure." He picked up his mug, then looked back over at Chibi-Usa, who was surrounded by the other kids, clearly the life of the group. "She's a good kid."

"So . . . can I get you something to eat to thank you for helping Chibi-Usa?" Usagi asked as he drank his coffee. "It's on me."

"Hmm," he said, regarding her through squinted eyes. "You know Odango, if you wanted to ask me out to dinner you could have just asked."

"I wasn't . . . I . . ." Usagi sputtered, trying to force down the blush she could feel crossing her cheeks. Damn him—that was the second time today he had made her blush!

Mamoru smirked, setting down his coffee. "Tell you what. I could really use some help furniture shopping, like I said. What if you help me out?"

"You want me to help you find furniture?"

"Sure. You know where to go, I don't . . ."

Usagi crossed her arms, considering his proposal.

"Chibi-Usa could come too," Mamoru continued, "if she wants."

Usagi sighed. She knew a day out with Mamoru would thrill her daughter. "Well, I suppose that would be OK."

Mamoru smiled. "And hey, if you still don't think we're even after that, I'd be happy to accept dinner at the end of the day."

Huffing, Usagi rolled her eyes. "Wow, how generous."

"I try," he said with a wink.

She fought back a smile, but lost. "Insufferable."

* * *

"Thanks for finally deciding to join us, Chief Superintendent," Sakurada said as Wakagi entered her office.

"I'm five minutes late!" Wakagi huffed, his cheeks flushing with anger. "I was finishing an important call!"

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Wakagi. "Be late again and you'll be manning phones with the camels in the Sahara!"

Sailor Venus smirked from her perch on Sakurada's expansive mahogany desk. She had been watching the two of them bicker since her Sailor V days, half a lifetime ago. Every time she saw their dysfunctional relationship in action she wondered how they hadn't strangled each other, but they made it work. Wakagi had even managed to get promoted several times, and had been put in charge of the newly expanded senshi taskforce, which had been given the unenviable job of wading through the thousands of tips flooding the Senshi Hotline every day since the press conference Venus gave a few days prior. Venus privately suspected that Sakurada had given him the task just to piss him off, since Wakagi's disdain for all things senshi (particularly Sailor V herself) was well-known throughout the police department.

Wakagi, noticing Venus's smirk, glared at her as he took a seat among the few other high-ranking police officials attending the status meeting. Used to his acrimony, she winked at him and watched him turn a deeper shade of red as he fought to keep his temper under control.

"So! Status updates," Sakurada said, leaning back in her chair. "Wakagi, why don't you start?"

Wakagi, who had just gotten settled into his chair, sighed heavily and stood up once again.

"Since alerting the public to the perp's MO and releasing the facial composite sketch three days ago, the Senshi Hotline has logged over 25,000 calls." He pulled a worn notepad out of his back pocket and glanced at it briefly, checking his numbers. "In the last 24 hours alone over 9,058 calls were logged. That's an average of over 6 calls a minute."

One of the detectives gave a low whistle at the astonishing numbers.

"Since people were asked to contact the Hotline if anyone they knew went missing or began acting strangely or exhibited behaviors that could indicate mind control, I have set up a team to identify and investigate legitimate missing persons claims as well as another team to do the same for possible mind-control cases. As you can imagine, a lot of people go missing in Tokyo, and the list of people acting out-of-character is about 1,000 times longer. Of course, 99.99% of the calls are just people being afraid of their own shadows."

"I can't say I really blame them," Detective Sasaki said, shaking his head.

"Seriously," Venus agreed.

"How many people are on your team, Wakagi?" Sakurada asked.

"Currently, you have allocated 225 personnel to the taskforce."

"Let's double it," she said.

"And where will these personnel come from, exactly, Superintendent-General?" Deputy Superintendent-General Okimura asked. He was a no-nonsense man who, as second in command to Sakurada, was used to dealing with her whims and having to find the logistics to make them work. "We still have a city to police, here."

Sakurada waved her hand dismissively. "I'm sure we can steal some rookies from the prefectures out in the boonies to man the phones. This is a little more important than investigating Farmer Watanabe's missing daikon radishes, don't you think?"

Okimura grunted, conceding her point.

"Wakagi," Sakurada said, turning the conversation back to him, "do you have any actual leads yet?"

"Yes, several. I have 25 pairs of detectives currently out investigating the best leads and plenty more to follow up on when they return."

"Fine. V?" Sakurada said, turning to Venus as Wakagi sat down. "Would you like to share what your team has been up to?"

"Certainly. As I reported previously, there was some suspicion that 26-year-old Hoshino Koji was an early victim. Mars, Mercury, and I interviewed him yesterday and confirmed that he was, in fact, attacked by our perp. We got readings on the site and from the shirt he was wearing at the time of the attack as well. We're also continuing to look for other previous victims as well; Mercury has tapped into Tokyo-area hospital databases and has set up search parameters that will flag potential victims from the last 12 months. I'll alert you if we get any hits."

" _Finally_!" Sakurada said. "Someone competent got some real results! Thank you, V. Wakagi, you could learn a lot from her, y'know."

"She's a senshi!" Wakagi said through clenched teeth. "They have superpowers and supercomputers and god knows what else at their disposal!"

Sakurada ignored him. "All right, so that's three confirmed victims."

"So far . . ." Wakagi muttered.

"Were you able to obtain security footage of the attack?" Sasaki asked.

"The beat cops had it pulled already after the initial incident," Venus said, "but all it shows is Hoshino smoking, responding to someone off camera, and then walking off camera himself. The perp is little more than a gray blur."

"Well, have it analyzed anyway," Sakurada said.

"Mercury's working on it."

"Perfect. Anything else?"

"Not from me," Venus said.

"Anybody else?"

"I'd like to talk with you about personnel logistics, but it can wait until after the meeting," Okimura said.

"Fine. Anybody else?" After a few moments of silence, Sakurada nodded. "Alright, meeting adjourned."

Wakagi was the first to leave, slamming the door open and storming out of the office in a huff.

"Is it just me," Venus said as Sakurada's office began to clear out, "or is Wakagi even moodier than usual today?"

"He's just upset because his girlfriend stopped returning his calls," Sakurada said.

"Really? That sweet girl ghosted him?"

"Yep, I had to tell him earlier to keep his head in the game or he'd be building snowmen with the penguins in Antarctica."

"Has he considered calling the Senshi Hotline to report her missing?"

The two women looked at each other in silence before bursting into laughter.

"Well, I always thought Aya was a little too nice for him, anyway," Sakurada said.

"Poor Wakagi," Venus said, wiping a tear from her eye. "That guy can't catch a break."

* * *

2/11/18 A new chapter?! It only took [checks calendar] 11 months and 19 days for me to get this out. But one of my 2018 goals is to finish this story sooo I should be (hopefully) updating regularly now. Yay!

Thanks go my beta, Antigone2, who is always there for me and who inspires me always. Thanks to FloraOne, whose unbridled enthusiasm for usamamo fanfiction keeps me going. And a big thank you to everyone who has commented, followed, and read Phantom over the past year+. I hope you enjoyed this new chapter!


	6. Chapter 5

Previously, on _Phantom_ :

Mamoru returns from America to find that Usagi has a daughter, Chibi-Usa. He asks Usagi and Chibi-Usa to help him go furniture shopping after bonding with Chibi-Usa while helping her with her English homework. Meanwhile, the senshi investigate the first supernatural enemy since they defeated the Dark Kingdom a decade ago. Death Phantom takes control of his victims' minds and drains their energy. Sailor Venus is working hard to try to find the attacker, but reviving his victims is taking its toll and the list of missing is only increasing.

* * *

Fair warning: There will be minor character death in this story. Not this chapter, but soon.

* * *

"Look at this one!" Chibi-Usa said as she pulled Mamoru's hand, leading him toward a violently pink sofa. "It's soooo pretty!"

They had been shopping all day and were currently making their way through their fifth furniture store, after making a much-needed pit stop at a nearby ice cream parlor, much to Chibi-Usa's (and Usagi's) delight. So far that afternoon, Mamoru had managed to acquire a dining room table and chairs, a desk, several bookcases, and a bed (after testing about 100 mattresses at Chibi-Usa's insistence), but the right sofa had eluded him.

Mamoru laughed as Chibi-Usa flopped on the sofa with a squeal. "Pretty pink, you mean," he said.

"Chibi-Usa," Usagi said, "we're shopping for _Mamoru_ , remember? I don't think that's really his style."

Chibi-Usa didn't answer, merely jumping off the sofa and running to the next one that caught her eye.

Usagi sighed as she and Mamoru followed the hyperactive child. "I think two ice cream cones might have been one too many, Dr. Baka."

"And what about the three ice cream cones that _you_ had?" he asked, nudging her shoulder playfully.

"I'm a professional," she said with a sniff. "I know how to handle my sugar."

He grinned.

"Look!" Chibi-Usa called, hopping onto a tufted chaise.

"Chibi-Usa, don't jump on that!" Usagi chided, sighing as Chibi-Usa moved on to the next sofa. "I still don't know why you don't want to go to Ikea," she said as they slowly walked among the floor displays. "Like half of our stuff is from there."

"Because I spent the last 8 years sleeping on an Ikea bed and sitting on an Ikea couch and I'd like something a little more permanent now? Something I'd actually like to come home to?"

"A sofa to grow old with?" she said, bumping his hip with hers.

"Exactly. Guess I'm ready to put down some roots." He glanced at her, catching her eye. "It would be nice to settle down and have an actual home somewhere, y'know?"

She looked down, running her hand along the sofa they were passing. "Guess we'd better find you the perfect match, then."

He smiled. "I have no doubt we will."

"Mamoru! Mamoru!" Chibi-Usa ran over, grabbing his hand once again. "I found the perfect sofa for you! Come see! Come see!"

"Guess we'd better check it out," he said to Usagi, reaching over to take her hand with his free one. She stiffened at his unexpected touch, but quickly relaxed and let herself be led along as Chibi-Usa pulled them through the maze-like floor displays.

"See?" Chibi-Usa said, pointing to an unfussy modern sofa.

Mamoru grinned. "Actually, I really like this one." He cocked his head, looking it over. "Definitely the best so far. Nice work, Chibi-Usa!"

She hopped happily, still grasping his hand tightly with both of hers.

"What do you think, Usagi?" he asked, squeezing her hand lightly.

"Hmm. It's . . . nicer than I was expecting." She kept her eyes on the sofa, unwilling to look at him and see that enraging smirk of his that she knew was plastered on his face.

"Sit!" Chibi-Usa said, pulling his hand down with all her might.

He obeyed her command, letting go of Usagi's hand and sinking into the surprisingly comfortable cushions. Chibi-Usa sat down next to him, putting her small arm on the wide armrest and kicking her feet, which weren't even close to reaching the floor.

"C'mon, Mama! You too!" she instructed.

"Ok, ok." Usagi shifted her purse and sat on the other side of Mamoru, sighing with pleasure as she leaned back. "Ahhh . . . it's nice to get off of my feet."

Noticing the group on the sofa, a sales associate with stylish glasses and a perky neck scarf approached them.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked.

"Yes, actually," Mamoru said, standing up. "Does this sofa come in leather?"

"We have a variety of leather upholstery options for this model," she said. "I'll grab the samples and be right back!"

By the time the sales associate returned, Mamoru was alone, watching Usagi and Chibi-Usa browsing throw pillows nearby with a soft smile on his face.

"Sir?" the associate said, getting his attention. "Here are the leather upholstery samples."

"Oh, thank you," he said, taking the samples from her.

She looked over at Usagi and Chibi-Usa, who were admiring a pillow embroidered with wildflowers and rabbits.

"You have a beautiful family," she told him.

"I'm sorry?" he said, looking up from the samples.

"I said, your family is beautiful," she repeated with a smile.

"Oh." He cleared his throat, looking back down at the samples. "They're . . . they're not my family."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I just assumed—"

"No, no, it's fine," he assured her. He looked over at them, the soft smile returning to his face. "They are beautiful though, aren't they?"

She grinned. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Minako awoke in darkness to the sound of the sugary J-Pop song she'd set as Usagi's ringtone blasting from her phone. For a moment she didn't know where she was, then remembered she had passed out on the couch as soon as she had gotten home from her meeting with Sakurada that afternoon. She was dazed as she tried to orient herself; her eyelids felt like they weighed a million pounds and she wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week.

But what else was new? This had been her life since that horrible man started his attacks and would be her life until he was in custody. Healing people left her drained—affecting her far more than she would ever willingly admit to anyone, least of all herself.

There had been a flurry of activity two nights ago; a pair of victims had been discovered at a secluded shrine, and it had taken everything she had to revive them. Mercury had fussed over her after the victims had been healed, insisting that Venus get an IV and a concoction of vitamins and who knows what else that she had devised specially for Venus after the Shimamura attack. And it _had_ helped . . . a little.

Without opening her eyes, Minako felt around the couch cushions, finally locating her phone under a throw pillow.

"Hello?" she rasped, her voice still scratchy from sleep.

"Mina? Did I wake you?"

"Uh, yeah Usa . . . but it's fine." Minako cleared her throat. "What time is it?"

"Just past 9. Chibi-Usa's finally asleep so I thought I'd give you a call, but I can let you get back to sleep if you want."

"No, no. It's fine," she said, yawning loudly. "What's up?"

"I wanted to check on you . . . See how you're doing."

"Oh you know me," Minako said, trying to inject energy she didn't feel into her voice. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Do you need anything? I could try to come by tomorrow if you want."

"No, no. Honestly, I'm fine," she said, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. "Just sleepy, that's all."

"Really? Ami said—"

"Really, Usagi. I promise I'm ok."

"Ok . . ." Usagi said, obviously unconvinced.

"What about you?" Minako asked, trying to change the subject. "What have you been up to?"

"Well . . . Chibi-Usa and I helped Mamoru pick out furn—"

"Oh!" Minako said, her eyes snapping open as she remembered what Usagi had been up to earlier in the day. "Your date!"

"It wasn't a _date_. . ."

"Uh huh, just keep telling yourself that," Minako said as she fumbled in the dark to turn on a nearby lamp. She squinted as light flooded her living room. The remnants of the half-eaten frozen dinner she'd had for lunch was on the coffee table, along with an assortment of empty energy drinks, candy wrappers, and several months' worth of fashion magazines. "Girl do you know how long it's been since I've had time to go on a date?"

" _It wasn't a date_!"

"Whatever. Anyway, how did it go?"

Usagi sighed. "It was . . . nice. Good, even."

"You sound surprised by that," Minako said, shaking an unwashed shirt and bra off of a nearby blanket and covering herself with it.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Why?" she asked as she snuggled into the blanket, cradling the phone against her head.

"Because it's _Mamoru_. I'm not _supposed_ to like him."

Minako smiled. "So you do like him?"

"Ugh. I don't know . . . maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Probably. Just a little."

Minako chuckled.

"I just feel confused. I mean, this is _Mamoru_ , y'know? But when we're together and he flirts with me . . . and he was flirting _all day_ , Minako. And . . . he held my hand."

"Woah, moving fast there, aren't you?" Minako teased.

"It was just for a few seconds! It might not have meant anything."

Minako sighed. "So then what's the big deal?"

"It's just . . . being with him feels good. And he's just so good with Chibi-Usa. It's so sweet to see them together, Mina. But it makes me nervous because, like, what if we start dating and then things don't work out?"

"You've been out with guys since you had Chibi-Usa, Usagi. It's not like this is new."

"Sure, I've dated a little, but nothing serious. Not like this."

"You went furniture shopping and were chaperoned by your kid. You don't even know if you held hands for real. I don't think it's that serious."

"Minaaaa . . ."

"Am I wrong?" Minako stifled another yawn, snuggling farther into her blanket.

"Ugh. You're not _wrong_ but . . . I just get the feeling that this is something that could become serious, y'know?"

"Yeah, I could see that."

"And I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Usa, don't forget that you have as much say in this as he does. Take it at a pace that makes _you_ feel comfortable. If he really likes you, he'll respect that."

"That's true . . . Ugh, I guess I have to figure out what I want and how fast I want to go." She paused, snorting. "Of course, I have no clue what I want."

"And that's OK. You're allowed to not know," Minako reassured her.

"He just . . . makes me feel things I haven't felt in a long time, Minako."

Minako yawned. "Is that bad?"

"No, not bad. Definitely not bad." She sighed. "Maybe you're right. I could just take things at my own pace and see what happens."

"Uh huh," came Minako's sleepy reply.

"And, honestly? I think . . . I think I might like him. Like, maybe more than a little. Like when he held my hand, it just felt so _good,_ Minako _._ And when he's around, I feel like . . . like I'm not just some screw-up single mom to be pitied, y'know? When he looks at me, I feel wanted." Usagi paused, scoffing at herself. "God, I sound so pathetic right now. A guy treats me like a human being and suddenly I'm a teenager again. _Oh, he held my hand! What does it mean?_ Sorry Minako, I probably sound like a complete idiot right now."

Usagi waited for a response from her friend, but heard nothing.

"Minako?"

Through the silence, Usagi could hear Minako's steady, even breaths. She sighed heavily, but Minako didn't notice.

"Poor Minako," she quietly told her sleeping friend. "Get your rest."

* * *

 _Sailor Moon stood on the rooftop high above Tokyo, waiting in the darkness of the night. It was raining—the kind of refreshing summer rain that brought parched flowers back to life and caused tendrils of steam to rise from the overheated city streets—but Sailor Moon hardly noticed. Suddenly, a blur of shadow caught her eye, bringing a relieved smile to her face._

 _"Tux!" she called softly. In an instant he was at her side and she was in his arms. She inhaled deeply, letting his rosy scent fill her lungs. "I was afraid you wouldn't come."_

 _"And miss my last chance to see you?" He stroked her wet hair as she sniffled into his chest. "Nothing could have kept me away, Moonbeam."_

Usagi awoke with a start. She stared at the ceiling, waiting for the swell of emotion choking her to subside. Reaching up to rub her face, she was unsurprised to find it wet with tears.

It had been quite some time since she had last dreamed of Tuxedo Mask, and it was as bittersweet as ever to be reminded of their last night together. Eight years had passed since that night—the last time she had seen him. Eight years since he had left her. Eight years since they had made love in the rain on a rooftop while the city they protected slept below peacefully them. Eight years since . . .

She sighed, wondering idly if the dream had been sparked by spending the day near Mamoru and his infuriating, intoxicating smell. She had realized it the previous week while pouring him coffee at Crown; he smelled of roses and something unidentifiably earthy—just like Tuxedo Mask had. She had almost forgotten, but one good whiff of Mamoru was enough to make the memory flood her mind. And while he didn't smell _exactly_ the same as her long-lost love, it was similar enough that being near enough to Mamoru to inhale his scent sent warmth swirling through her.

Stupid Mamoru. Why did he have to smell so much like _him_?

Usagi swung her legs over the side of the bed, pulling her bunched-up nightgown back into place before quietly making her way to Chibi-Usa's room. Peeking into the dark room, she felt herself calm as she looked at her daughter, who was sleeping blissfully while tangled in her favorite Sailor V sheets, the ridiculously expensive embroidered pillow that Mamoru had bought her earlier in the day over Usagi's objections kicked to the foot of the bed.

Eight years ago Tuxedo Mask had left Sailor Moon behind, but he had no way to know that—despite their precautions—they had created a precious gift together that night: their daughter. She wondered for the millionth time what he would think if he found out, or if she would have the strength to tell him. And, after everything that had happened, she didn't even know if she could face him at all, or even if she wanted to.

Usagi shook her head, trying to ward off tears that were once again pricking her eyes. She had accepted long ago that Tuxedo Mask wasn't coming back—that he would never know about Chibi-Usa. He had made the decision to leave, and she hadn't stood in his way.

She had moved on with her life. What other choice did she have?

* * *

By all accounts, Wakagi should have been happy. But, despite having his first day off in several weeks, a frown was still firmly planted on his face—and not just because it was his default expression. The sun may have been shining, and he may have been waiting for his girlfriend so he could see her for the first time in what felt like months, but all he could think about was the pile of missing persons reports on his desk—the faces of the missing and the desperate pleas of their families swirling through his mind.

 _Yamamoto Ryo, 52, missing for 3 weeks . . ._

 _Help us, please. Can't you do something?_

 _Tamaki Manabu, 37, never came home from work . . ._

 _This isn't like him. He wouldn't do this!_

 _Tanaka Sakura, 48, missing after a trip to the grocery store . . ._

 _She wouldn't leave her ailing mother like this!_

 _Oyama Hiroshi, 32, missing for 15 days . . ._

 _I miss my daddy. Can you find him, please?_

 _Hasegawa Hikari, 18, never made it to high school one morning . . ._

 _I'm begging you! Please, bring my sister home . . ._

It was a never-ending parade of misery that showed no signs of slowing.

Wakagi jumped a little as his phone buzzed in his pocket and startled him out of his depressing ruminations.

 _I'm downstairs! :)_ Aya's message read.

And then there was his girlfriend's recent behavior . . .

After ghosting him, she had suddenly reappeared, texting her apologies, and explaining that her absence was due to an unexpected job opportunity she hadn't been able to resist. She had been scouted to be the personal assistant for a high-level spiritual leader whose identity was too sensitive to divulge over the phone. Her radio silence, she had explained, was merely due to her packed schedule as she started her new job.

Maybe it was due to the case he was working, but Wakagi couldn't help but feel paranoid about the whole situation. Yet aside from the sudden job change, Aya's behavior seemed more-or-less normal. There was no emptying of bank accounts, no passing out in alleys, and she certainly seemed to be her normal self—at least over the phone. Yet Wakagi's gut told him something was off, and he was determined to figure out what it was.

He quickly gathered his things and made his way to the street, and was more than a little surprised to find a sleek black sedan with its flashers on idling in front of his building. One of the tinted windows in the back rolled down, revealing Aya's smiling face.

"Toshi-kun!" she called, using her usual nickname for him. He relaxed a little as he saw her looking healthy and happy, but the car still made him wary.

"What's all this?" he asked as he walked to the car, peeking in through the open window.

"I'm sorry," she said, opening the door to invite him inside, "I know I should have mentioned it, but I was running late finishing up some errands for work and didn't want to be late meeting up with you! I just have to drop some paperwork off at the office and then we can have the rest of the day together. Is that OK?"

"You want me to come with you?"

"Sure, if that's alright."

He looked around the car's interior, finding nothing of note. Aya seemed totally normal—the files she mentioned sitting beside her on the car's seat. The driver remained facing forward, a nondescript black chauffeur's hat on his head.

"Well, I guess that's fine," he said, climbing into the car and shutting the door.

Aya smiled, placing her hand in his as the driver pulled back into traffic. Wakagi's eyes fell on the rear-view mirror and he caught sight of the driver's neutral expression and black sunglasses. Something in the driver's face rung a bell, but Wakagi couldn't place him.

"Excuse me," he said, leaning forward, "do I know you from somewhere?"

"Me, sir?" the driver asked, keeping his eyes on the traffic.

"Yeah . . . you look a little familiar."

"I don't believe we've met before, sir."

"Hiro's a new recruit like me," Aya said with a smile.

"I see," Wakagi said, giving the driver one last glance before sitting back in his seat to face Aya once again.

"It's good to see you," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry it's been so long."

"Well, that's more my fault than it is yours," he reassured her, relaxing a little. "You look nice, by the way."

"Thanks!" she said, smoothing out her skirt. "I can finally afford some nicer clothes now with this new job. I just got this outfit—do you like it?"

"Yeah, very classy."

"It's Chanel," she said, preening a little, but stopped when he scowled. "What? What's wrong with Chanel?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Wha . . . ooooh, I think I know." She grinned as his scowl deepened. "It's because of Sakurada, isn't it? I forgot that's all she wears."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's my day off . . . Can we please talk about something other than my horrible boss?"

She laughed, playfully smacking his arm in a reassuringly familiar way.

"What about your boss?" he asked her. "How is your new job going?"

"Oh, it's great, honestly," she said. "My boss is very wise. I don't really know how to describe him . . . he just has a very centering presence."

"So what's his deal, anyway?"

"The master?"

Wakagi frowned. "Is that what you call him?"

She shrugged. "It's what everyone calls him."

"So . . . what kind of religious figure is he? Why all the secrecy?"

"He has a deep mistrust of authority—the master has seen many abuses of power and injustices in the world. The secrecy merely comes from his desire for privacy for himself and his followers as they devote themselves to their religion."

"And that would be?"

"I don't know that I'm the best person to explain it all," Aya said, furrowing her brows, "but his followers believe him to be a prophet of the true religion, of the true god. It is believed that the master speaks directly with the god Khnwos."

He raised his eyebrows. "Khnwos? That's a new one."

Aya smiled. "Maybe for you, but to the believers, Khnwos is the most ancient and powerful of all gods—existing before all others, and destined to exist after all other gods die."

"OK, so aside from believing in a god I've never heard of, what what's this religion all about?"

"Well, mostly people just meditate a lot, to be honest."

"Meditate? Really?" Wakagi said, furrowing his brows. "That's it?"

"Yep!" Aya said with a smile. "The master believes that meditating helps balance energy and allows believers to get in touch with Khnwos. The master created special meditation rooms, too—they're just big enough for one person and it's completely pitch black inside. Some believers will stay in the room for hours and hours. It's pretty amazing."

Wakagi shuddered. "Sounds too close to solitary confinement for me."

"Right except, y'know, these aren't for punishment."

"Well I wouldn't be volunteering for that, that's for sure." Wakagi shook his head. "Let's talk about something else, huh?"

Aya laughed, then happily chattered about other topics until they pulled up to a sleek high-rise building in Akasaka. After putting the car in park, Hiro quickly exited, rushing to open the passenger's side door for Aya.

"Thank you, Hiro," she said, gathering her files and exiting the car. She leaned down when she realized Wakagi wasn't following. "Hiro has to return the car to the garage, Toshi-kun. Why don't you come up with me?"

"Really? Is that OK?"

"Yeah! I'm sure no one will mind."

Wakagi scooted over, exiting the door that Hiro was still holding open.

"Are you sure we've never met?" Wakagi asked him as he saw him more clearly. "You look awfully familiar . . ."

"I'm sorry, sir," Hiro said, shaking his head. "I can't recall ever meeting you."

"C'mon, Toshi-kun, this way," Aya said, getting his attention.

With a final look at the driver, Wakagi straightened his jacket and followed Aya into the building and up to the fourth floor, taking note of the various security protocols in place—guards at the front desk of the building, security cameras everywhere, key-card access in the elevator and again at the office suite, which was behind a very solid-looking door.

Whoever Aya was working for, he was certainly well protected.

Once inside the suite, a receptionist greeted them. Yet another guard stood by, silently watching them.

"Do you know where the master is, Hitomi?" Aya asked the receptionist as Wakagi signed in.

"In the sanctum with some disciples, I believe," she replied with a benign smile.

"Perfect, thank you!"

Aya lead him past the guard and into the main office. It was smaller than he was expecting, with several private office suites and conference rooms leading off a main hall. All the blinds were drawn; all the doors shut tight. It was oddly dim and quiet for the middle of a workday.

"We can just pop into the sanctum so I can deliver these documents."

"There's really a sanctum in here?"

She smiled. "It's really just a converted conference room. Nothing terribly fancy."

Wakagi lightly grabbed her wrist. "Still, I really don't want to disturb your boss. Why don't I just wait here?"

"Don't be silly!" she said, pulling herself free of his grasp. "I've told him so much about you, I know he'd love to meet you."

Wakagi frowned as Aya walked toward a set of double doors, knocking on one three times. He heard the unmistakable sound of locks being turned, and the door finally opened slightly from the inside.

"C'mon," she said, waving him over with a smile.

He reluctantly followed. Peeking inside the room, he saw an aisle formed by two-dozen people in gray robes meditating, all facing a hooded figure seated on a cushion at the front of the room. The sight reminded him vaguely of an old European-style monastery. Several doors lined one wall like confessionals—he assumed they were the individual meditation rooms Aya had told him about. It was also quite dark inside—blackout shades covered the windows, leaving a few spherical lamps shining dimly like crystal balls to provide light for the entire room.

Aya was still near the doors, just a few steps from him, handing her files to a man in a suit, who had presumably been the one to open the door.

On the surface, the scene before him seemed harmless enough, but something still felt . . . off. He attempted to back up, but accidentally bumped into someone behind him. Turning quickly, he found himself face-to-face with Hiro, the driver.

"My apologies, sir," Hiro said, leading Wakagi by the arm fully into the room. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The man in a suit shut the door behind them, then locked a series of three deadbolts with a dreadful finality.

"It's OK . . ." Wakagi began as Hiro removed his sunglasses. But as he did so, Wakagi finally realized why he recognized the man's face.

Hiro wasn't lying—they had never met. But Wakagi _had_ met his family. Just a few days ago, in fact. They had shown Wakagi picture after picture, pleading for him to find their missing loved one. And here he was standing right in front of him—Oyama Hiroshi, 32, father of 2, who had been missing for 15 days.

Wakagi swallowed, his nerves on edge. He suddenly wished that he had his service pistol with him, instead of back at the station where it was housed when he was off duty.

He turned to Aya but she was still smiling pleasantly, no hint of deception or worry in her eyes. What had she gotten into? What was going on? Then, turning to the front of the room, Aya clapped her hands, getting everyone's attention.

"Master, fellow disciples," she called as Wakagi's blood turned cold, "this is Chief Superintendent Wakagi Toshio of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department."

Wakagi stood frozen in place as he looked at the faces before him—so many of which were the very faces that had been haunting him day and night. He'd met their families, looked at their photos, read their histories, interviewed neighbors and classmates and coworkers and here they were, sitting in front of him. So many of the missing . . . and many more faces which he didn't recognize at all.

It didn't take long for him to conclude that the man at the front of the room was the very ghost he'd been hunting, the one who had caused all of the pain and misery flooding Tokyo—and he knew he'd been caught in a trap he was unlikely to escape.

"Mr. Wakagi," the hooded figure said then, his face shrouded in darkness, "thank you for joining us."

Wakagi slowly made his way to Aya, placing his hand on her shoulder "We need to leave," he said in a low voice. "Now."

"Don't be silly, Toshi-kun," she said with a smile. "We're not leaving. Not until the master wants us to."

He searched her eyes, but found no hint of malice . . . nor any emotion aside from banal pleasantness. She still seemed like her, but . . . was she brainwashed? In a trance? He swore under his breath, feeling like a complete fool to have been caught so easily.

Wakagi looked back at the door, which the man in the suit and Hiro were now blocking. He knew had to act quickly, but could he get Aya out, too?

"Come, Aya," the hooded figure called.

She dutifully walked up the aisle toward him, the same smile she had been giving Wakagi all afternoon on her face.

"Didn't I do a good job with her, Mr. Wakagi? She was the first one I really got right—the first one who could pass for her true self," the figure explained as he stroked Aya's hair. "She's such a nice girl. So pleasant to have around. People never suspect her—I left her personality intact, you see. Her personality and her memories—well, most of them, anyway. I just . . . tinkered, a bit. I gave her my motivations—inserted my will into her mind like a virus. She does my bidding willingly . . . like a little doll whose life I control—a marionette whose strings I hold."

Wakagi edged toward the door, making sure to never look directly at the hooded man. He knew making eye contact meant risking everything—his mind, his energy, his soul . . .

Hiro and the man in the suit turned toward him, blocking his way as the hooded man laughed.

"By all means, try to escape. You won't get very far. These are all my disciples, you see. And not all are recruits, like Aya," he said, stroking Aya's cheek. "Many are volunteers, such as Mr. Machida there," he said, gesturing to the man in the suit. "They have come to me of their own free will, led to me by Khnwos. They follow me and do my bidding willingly, because they have seen the power of Khnwos in me. Anyone here would fight to the death if I tell them to. But there's no need for anyone to die. Not yet, anyway."

Once again wishing he had his gun, Wakagi looked around for anything he might use as a weapon—a pole, a chair, anything—but when the two men started to advance on him, he fell into a defensive stance, thankful that he still had years of martial arts training at his disposal—a requirement for all police officers.

Hiro lunged, but Wakagi deflected his attack with a blow to the neck, sending him crashing to the ground with a resounding thud, where he lay still. Machida, however, was waiting—and when he put his arms up and took what Wakagi recognized as a classic karate forward stance, Wakagi knew this opponent would be more formidable. He glanced at the door—so tantalizingly close—knowing that his best chance at escape was in getting to it as quickly as possible.

Wakagi rushed toward the door and barely got his fingers on the first deadbolt when Machida attempted to kick Wakagi's feet out from under him. He miraculously kept his footing and turned, only to be struck in the shoulder hard with the man's foot. Wakagi hissed in pain but recovered quickly, putting his hands up in time to deflect the next kick. By the time Machida kicked again, Wakagi was prepared, and grabbed the man's foot, slamming him to the ground hard.

As fast as he could, Wakagi made for the door, and managed to unlock one of the deadbolts before having to dodge Machida once more. The next time the man lunged, Wakagi spotted an opening, and kicked hard at his shin, once again making for the door. This time, he didn't even get the second lock open before Machida was on him again. Wakagi took a hard kick to the side but managed to stay up, and, after the man attempted another hand strike, Wakagi was able to grasp his wrist and twist, forcing him to the ground.

Just as he was trying to figure out how to keep Machida down, Wakagi saw a blur in his periphery. Looking up, he saw Hiro's foot coming at him. He tried to turn but it was too late—Wakagi felt an exquisite burst of pain explode through his head and woke up facedown on the ground. He could feel the heavy weight of a man sitting on his back, pinning his arms behind him.

He squinted, trying to see clearly in the dim room, but everything was blurry and out of focus. Blinking rapidly, Wakagi's sight began to clear, but when he saw the hooded figure slowly walking toward him, he shut his eyes tight, knowing it was his only chance of survival.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time, Mr. Wakagi," the hooded man said.

"What do you want?" Wakagi asked, his speech slightly slurred. His head still felt heavy from Hiro's kick.

The man chuckled. "I want many things. But from you, I merely ask for you to open your eyes and have a chat with me."

"Yeah right, so you can make me into one of your puppets?" he scoffed, keeping his eyes closed.

"I think you may find that you and I have many things in common. Perhaps you might not find what I have to say so objectionable—"

"Not likely," Wakagi sneered. The man on his back tightened his hold on Wakagi's arms, twisting them enough to make Wakagi grunt in pain.

"You see, Aya has told me all sorts of things about you. Things such as the powerful resentment you have for Sailor Venus and the other senshi for getting the recognition you feel you deserve."

Wakagi swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple pressing into the floor. "Just because I don't like Sailor V doesn't mean I'll join your organization."

"And then there's your boss," the man continued, his voice getting louder as he grew nearer to Wakagi. "Sakurada. Youngest Police Superintendant General ever, with no signs of slowing down any time soon. As long as you are a member of the police force, as long as you continue in your career, you will be under her thumb. The woman who abuses you, belittles you . . . The woman who sent you to Siberia to freeze all because you couldn't beat Sailor V—a girl in a miniskirt with superhuman powers. You, an ordinary human being, punished for not having the strength of a superhero." He clicked his tongue and sighed. "How unjust."

"You really think I'm going to condone kidnapping and brainwashing just because my boss sucks?" Wakagi asked. He could tell the man was right in front of him now; he knew there was practically no chance of escape. "What is your goal, anyway? Why do you run this sham of a religion?"

"Sham?" the man asked, an edge creeping into his voice. "Oh no, this is no sham. Khnwos has chosen me, you see. When Sailor Moon and her lackey Tuxedo Mask abused me, when the senshi poisoned the minds of people against me, when your people turned their backs and shut me away, he found me and strengthened me. And now, you will help me get my revenge."

"Like hell I will." He thrashed, trying to get even an inch of leverage to throw Machida off his back. The thin carpet below him burned his face as he struggled, but Machida held him fast.

"Oh, you seem to be under the impression that you have a choice in the matter. I'm afraid, Mr. Wakagi, that you are going to help me, whether you like it or not. Mr. Oyama," he said, calling to Hiro, "would you, please?"

Wakagi hissed in pain as Hiro grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back and off the ground. He tried to struggle but it was no use—Hiro quickly had him in a headlock, the crook of his arm so tight against Wakagi's throat that he could hardly breathe.

"Now, now, Mr. Wakagi, there's no need to struggle so, I won't hurt you," the hooded man said as Wakagi continued to try to wrestle himself free. "You will be most useful to me. I'll make sure you are safe—for now, at least."

Wakagi was yelling, struggling desperately, but it was no use—Hiro managed to force one of Wakagi's eyes open with his fingers, and in the dim light, Wakagi saw a face looming in front of him—a terrible face with gaping, black eyes, darker than any shadow lurking in the dead of night.

He tried to scream but when he opened his mouth nothing came out . . . His mind felt dull and fuzzy . . . like he was floating farther and farther away . . . Soon he stopped thrashing, and a sense of calm came over him, his mind now shrouded in cool, welcoming darkness.

A voice spoke to him, deep within his mind.

 _I am Death Phantom_. . .

Yes . . .

 _Prophet of Khnwos . . ._

Khnwos . . .

 _and I am now your master._

My master . . .

* * *

6/14/18 Awww yiss a nice juicy chapter for you to sink your teeth into! (The working title of this chapter was "Poor Wakagi.") I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the next update won't take so long. D:

THANK YOU to everyone who has commented/followed since the last update. As always, thank you thank you THANK YOU to my wonderful beta Antigone2 and to FloraOne, who is an invaluable sounding board and always willing to nerd out over mind control powers (among other things).

Wanna chat about this fic? You can find me on tumblr as irritablevowel.

Until next time . . .


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